The Rest of the Story
by Zarathustra46
Summary: Abby Sciuto travels to England for vacation and finds herself in the middle of a mystery that strikes at the heart of the foundations of Hogwarts. Rated M for mature scenes in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Welcome to my new plot Bunny. It grabbed hold over 6 months ago and just wouldn't let go. The story is basically complete on my hard-drive and is only about 80 pages long. So this will be a short fic. I especially want to thank again my muse, Les Dowich, without whose support for this fic - it would still be a mess of a document. Les encouraged, supported, helped suggest what needed to be expanded and let me know right off what was rubbish. This is an NCIS/HP crossover that will span 2 separate time periods and three separate plots. Enjoy. PS: I own nothing except Brian Boswell.**

**November, 1032 – Hogwarts Castle, Scotland**

Everything had tumbled around him, everything. His own child – his sweet, beautiful daughter – murdered by that ... He slammed his hand down on his desk causing several bottles to dance on its sleek top. In his other, he crumpled the piece of parchment that had succinctly, and in dry tones, set down his child's fate in words of black, indelible ink. Setting the silencing wards around his office, he let loose with a scream of sheer pain and heartache, sinking to his knees on the unforgiving stone floor, letting his tears fall into his hands as he covered his face, hunched over in grief.

How could he tell his wife? She was already dying; this would surely finish her off. No, he would keep his silence – for now. Better she think her daughter was not talking to her than to discover she was murdered. Wiping his hands across his eyes, he slowly pushed himself up to stand in front of his desk again, smoothing out the parchment and gazing at it one last time, memorising every line, every word – carving them into his heart with every stroke of the quill – before consigning it to a hidden compartment in a drawer.

When his wife passed, that would be it. He could no longer stay in this place where every hallway rang with the ghostly laughter of his blessed girls. The school was up and running, they didn't need him. They didn't need a sour old man spreading doom and gloom amongst the students.

He summoned over a bottle of mead, pouring a generous measure into his flagon and lifting it in a silent toast to the memory of his daughter, Helena.

**Thursday, September 14****th****, 2006 - London**

Brian Boswell, on loan to the Auror department from the North American Ministry, always felt out of place whenever he walked into the Ministry offices of his current assignment. For starters, he never dressed in robes. He preferred modern, everyday, casual wear – or Muggle clothes, as his British counterparts delighted in pointing out. He would just smile and remark that at least he knew how to blend in with the general population. And he did.

American magicals were very adept at never being sussed out because of what they wore – of course it helped that most Wizarding communities tended to be centred close to the art districts in most cities, or congregated in rural areas where paranoid Americans tended to leave strange people alone. They were looked upon as being "eccentric" and generally avoided or tolerated with askance looks. In the artist communities, they looked just like one of the artsy types and didn't even warrant a second look.

Brian had grown up in Massachusetts, attending the prestigious Salem Academy – a private school that had all appearances of a standard high-achieving, college-preparatory boarding school that pumped out students well able to enter the Ivy League University of their choice. The students regularly mixed with the townies and, in a town famous for its magical roots, no one looked twice if a wand accidentally was spotted peeking out of a pocket. There were town stores that sold fake wooden wands by the dozens, among other non-magical items to perpetrate the urban myth of the area. And the Muggles ate it up. "Magic" was a popular trend, especially in that area of the country. In order to better blend in, the school had long ago decided to register with the local Muggle authorities as an elite school. It managed to obtain all the credentials that a regular Muggle school had; all of its instructors holding Muggle teaching certificates and degrees as well as Mastership in their chosen magical field of study. The students were required to pass not only North American Ministry of Magic, or NAMoM, approved qualifying exams upon graduation, but they also had to meet the Massachusetts High School graduation requirements, taking _their_ required exams, as well. They intended for their students to be prepared to handle anything in this modern world.

His mother had been a local witch of renown, who taught Arithmancy and all of the Muggle math courses at the academy using her free time to create new spells. Growing up, he had found her to be beautiful, and brilliant, but absent-minded in the raising of her only progeny.

His father had been a Navy lieutenant – strict and exacting in what he expected from his son – but willing to let Brian find his own niche in society. His father was what the British euphemistically call a Squib – or a non-magical born to a magical family. He had been thrilled when Brian had his first bout of accidental magic at the age of four and had summoned a cookie from the jar on top of the refrigerator.

He had been allowed the cookie as a reward – but only after completing the time-out he'd also earned for trying to climb up to the jar in the first place.

After Salem, Brian had followed in his father's footsteps and joined the Navy, going through the Academy with flying colours, ending up as a liaison between the Navy and NAMoM. The American Armed Services tended to turn a blind eye to magicals – perpetrating an atmosphere similar to one that gays faced: Don't ask, don't tell.

It didn't stop NAMoM from having its own people infiltrate the system, helping when a touch of magic could solve a problem – and making sure that its own citizens were safe.

Every now and then people would be loaned in a gesture of good-will between countries, which is how Brian had ended up in England. He was there to observe and train with the Auror Corp, learning techniques that could possibly be used in their own MLE program.

But he'd be damned if he would wear robes; he just could not roll with that aspect of their group.

He dropped his black leather jacket over the back of his desk chair, sliding into it and reaching for the only sheaf of parchments in his IN box. Multi-coloured memo's zoomed over-head, each colour denoting Department and urgency. He'd been in England for nearly a year now and had learned early on to step out of the way of the Red and Black memos, both of which tended to smoke and snarl as they hurried to their destinations. If they were really aggressive, they would deliberately buzz you and leave a stinging paper cut behind.

Today's assignment was a folder of accumulated parchments with a note attached to the front stating that these had been found in the estate of a wizard who had recently passed away, provenance unsure, but it talked of murder – mayhap ("Yep, I'm in Britain..." he mused) the Aurors should investigate.

He began flipping through the handwritten sheets, curiosity piqued as he noted that there were dates – but only month and numbers, no years. One of the obscure spells he'd been taught in school had been a carbon-dating determinant. Unfortunately it had the effect of obliterating whatever you were testing, so he tore a small piece off of an unwritten corner and putting the papers aside, pulled his wand and got ready to cast the spell, not noticing that his boss had come up behind him.

"What did that little piece of parchment do to you, Boswell?" came the curious question.

Brian turned to see Harry Potter standing near him, hands clasped behind his back as he bent forward to peer at the tiny scrap. Contemporaries, he had of course heard about the fellow wizard while in school – but Salem tended not to exchange students or put much weight on what happened in the European academies. They had not been invited to the tournament held in ninety-four, although the rumour was that their school had been the patsy used to enter Potter's name into the cup. His headmistress had been quite vocal in her vituperative calling down of all officials involved in the fiasco (the corridors ringing with her shouts after the morning papers had arrived), and rumour had it she had sent Headmaster Dumbledore a howler. But Brian, like all the boys in his class, had followed the newspaper reports religiously all year; comparing notes and speculating what they would have used had they been allowed to participate in the challenges. They had all come away with the idea that Harry Potter had been a lucky SOB to have survived at all, much less come away the winner. It could have easily been him that had died in that graveyard.

Making a decision, Brian snapped his wand back into its holder and reached for the folder, handing it to his boss.

"There are no years listed next to the dates. I wanted to see how recent this supposed crime took place. My suspicion is that it is quite old, the archaic use of language and spelling, the dryness of the parchment and the fact that it is real sheepskin, not just the manufactured version we currently have been using for the last sixty years."

Harry nodded as he made a cursory inspection of the documents. "So you decided to carbon-date the parchment?" he asked.

Brian raised his eyebrows in amazement. "Yes! How did you know...?"

"Raised a Muggle, Boswell. I'm quite familiar with various forensic techniques. You'll be using your mother's version of the spell?"

Brian nodded mutely, but snapped to attention quickly enough. "Yes, sir; I was taught it in school."

Harry snapped the folder closed, tucking it under his arm. "Well, then, get on with it, Lieutenant."

Brian dropped his wand back into his hand, and centring himself, cast the spell. As the paper caught flame under the purple spell-sheen, numbers rose above it before dissolving away to ash. Harry let out a low whistle as Brian stared in astonishment.

The numbers had read 1032.


	2. Chapter 2

**November, 1032 – Hogwarts Castle, Scotland**

All of the four founders had their own private chambers where they kept their private libraries, laboratories where they worked on new spells and creations, and were able to hide away for hours on end - their students never knowing where to look for them. They had other, more accessable offices as well where students and teachers could seek them out – but these were their special places.

Salazar was currently bottling up his most recent concoction in his own hide-a-way deep in the dungeons, far away from the rest of the castle in a natural cavern he'd discovered one day. He'd immediately fashioned a hidden entrance through his own rooms in the castle to the caves.

There were several chambers that were interconnected, deep below the level of the lake. The largest one he used for testing spells; that way if anything went wrong down here, it would not affect the rest of the castle. The smaller chambers he'd smoothed out with some mining spells and set up one as a fully stocked potions laboratory - with its own natural chimney system that kept fresh air constantly flowing through the room, another became a library that surpassed Rowena's own that she had opened up for student use, and a third was turned into a comfortable sitting chamber where he could hide and write up his memoirs – these last two were interconnected, the study a smaller chamber to the side of the library. A dry, rustling sound came from the vicinity of the entryway and Salazar looked over at his newly hatched pet basilisk – a fit guardian for his treasure cave. The rare anguine creature hissed at its master, keeping its eyes hooded so as not to hurt the Wizard, and he reached into a nearby basket to throw it a treat, watching fondly as it swallowed the dead rat whole and slithered out of his lab.

Rowena had designed the castle with each of them in mind, leaving the details of each section to each founder. They each had a fourth of the castle to arrange however they wanted and Rowena's spells were keyed to each founder so that they could direct the magic to do their bidding. As a result, each part of the castle had a distinct flavour to it, and reflected each founder's personalities. And the outside resembled more of a haphazard collection of styles and building techniques rather than a cohesive whole – but everyone from the teachers and staff to the apprentices studying there, loved it dearly – finding that there was always something new to discover around every corner.

Gryffindor had soaring towers, and open areas – classrooms that were large, airy and inviting. Gryffindor apprentices were always fun-loving lads and lasses, championing everyone. A highly competitive streak ran in the house-mates and they were always forming contests to show off their skills. They were the defenders of the castle, learned in battle strategies and leaders of troops. Godric's office was bold in its colour choices, and comfortable – in a masculine way – in its furnishings, yet practical as well. Nothing was there that did not have a purpose. Godric was not a man to sit idly studying some remote branch of magic; he was always on the move and was one of the schools best recruiters – seeking out those children with special inborn talent and convincing their parents that they were better off learning how to use these gifts to their best advantage in a place that specialised in this craft. He could have the mothers eating out of his hand within half a candle-mark. It had been his idea to take an old hat of his and charm it with each of their traits, allowing it to determine which Witch or Wizard the new students would apprentice under for the next seven years. Over the last twenty years, the hat had developed a distinct personality with a fondness for couplets and rhyming.

Helga was down to earth, and her areas had lots of gardens encased by covered walkways so that everyone could enjoy them, rain or shine. She was the hearth and home of the castle, the welcoming mother's touch to those apprentices who had never prepared for such a journey. Her rooms were a comfortable mix of homey smells, soft fabrics and cushioned benches where students who felt homesick could always come and be comforted. On the second floor of her section, she had devised a healing area where students, who were too injured to fix quickly, could recuperate. Salazar kept her stocked in potions, elixirs and unguents – constantly experimenting with new concoctions. She had situated her living quarters near the kitchens where she spent time supervising the elves she had organised. She had found the creatures living destitute in the local forest, foraging for food like animals. She had taken them in, taught them skills such as cleaning and cooking – and they had been so grateful, they had pledged themselves and their magic to her service, and the service of Hogwarts. Over the years, the elves had become attached to certain students, or professors, and their loyalties had switched. Helga had released them to their new masters with a smile, knowing her friends would be in good hands.

Rowena had gone for practical towers, much like Godric, but hers weren't the airy romantic ones on the north side of the castle. They were more practical – wide, squat, roomy. One huge central tower dominated the landscape and inside was a majority of the classrooms and teachers quarters. On the top level of the tower she had fashioned her own multi-layer office that included living quarters. Ostensibly as the head of the school, it became known as the Head Mistresses office. She had placed an observatory at the top of one of the towers and spent quite a bit of time up there, or in a smaller office directly below, mapping the stars. She conversed regularly with the Centaurs that had moved into the local forest, escaping persecution in Greece, and she had bespelled a circlet to contain all the knowledge from her books so that she wouldn't have to constantly carry around one of the huge tomes.

The circlet was one that Salazar had designed for her after the founding of the school. Created from beaten gold, it sported four Cabochon tiger eyes famed for their ability to promote wisdom. They also had a great magical capacity to hold energy without their matrices failing. Flanking each stone were gems representing the four houses. Her own Sapphire and Jasper – representing the bronze – was in front, Salazar's Emerald and Diamond to the back while the left tiger eye was Helga's Tourmaline and Onyx, with a Ruby and Citrine to represent Godric on the right. Used primarily to hold her veil in place, only the other three founders and her children knew that it contained so much more.

Salazar had the southern section of the castle, the section closest to the lake. In fact he had built his students' quarters underground and had incorporated a huge glass wall that looked directly into the lake. If you _nox-_ed the candles in the Common Room, you could just faintly see the phosphorous lamps in the freshwater Mere Colony at the bottom of the lake. It was a bit disconcerting sometimes to see fish and other creatures swim up to the window to peek in on the air-breathing inhabitants of the room.

Salazar had designed all of his teaching and living areas to be below ground, and they had quickly gained the sobriquet of 'The Dungeons'. He had also designed the Great Hall that stood right above his area, but hardly anyone remembered that – especially not after Rowena had created the spell that reflected the outdoor sky onto the rafter area of the Hall.

His wife did love her spells.

Carrying a flask of the new potion to help relieve her pain, Salazar used the secret ways he had created to ascend from the caverns, through his own office and into Rowena's on the seventh floor of the main tower. The main entrance was guarded by a huge Gargoyle that operated only on a password. A set of rotating stairs carried the visitor up to her office, giving her ample opportunity to prepare before they knocked on the thick oak door. He utilized a passageway known only to the family that opened up in the sitting area behind her main office, a place where she spent a majority of her time, now. He politely knocked on her chamber door before easing it open, being careful not to spill the flagon of potion in his other hand.

Today she'd had enough energy to move to sit in front of her fire, wrapped warmly against the chill of the winter winds that whistled outside the castle walls. Their favourite elf, Pibeo, was puttering around the room tidying things up, her little feet rustling in the sweet rushes that helped keep the warmth in the room. She was dressed in a short tunic and belted tabard that had a Hogwarts emblem embroidered on the front. The split colours of blue and silver on the tabard denoted service to their two houses. The elf nodded to Slytherin before snapping her finger and disappearing to the kitchens.

Salazar placed the cup on the table next to her right hand before checking to make sure that the woven covers were tucked in securely around her emaciated form. He knew she only had days left, and when she was gone, he would leave this place as well. It hurt to see her – someone who once was so vibrant and energetic – reduced to this mere shell. All he could do was make her last days comfortable.

"How are you, my dear?" he asked. "I'm glad to see you up and about today."

She gave him a weak smile before lifting the cup to her lips with both palsied hands and taking short, hesitant sips of the brew within. He raised a hand to help her steady the vessel and she smiled in thanks.

"Vile, as always, Sal," she commented, taking a breather before finishing it off.

"If it tasted good..."

"...it wouldn't work, I know." She returned the flagon to the table, leaning back with a sigh into the cushions of the chair, closing her eyes in weariness; the shadows prominent on her face. "So, what will this one do?" she asked, opening them again to look at her companion.

"A restorative; it should hopefully give you more energy," was the answer he supplied.

She closed her eyes again with a small grunt of acknowledgement. "I'll let you know if it begins working. It was good to see Bast last week, he is taking his tasks seriously and you seem to be satisfied with his running of the estate. We need to set him up with a wife soon – thirty is too old to be single – he needs an heir." She paused, settling the rug more snugly about her. "I sent for Helena, you know. Have you heard anything? I would like to see her before..."

He shook his head. "No, I haven't heard anything – she could be anywhere..." he lied. He hesitated to broach the subject, but with so little time left he couldn't afford to be tactful. "I know there is more than just you wishing to see her, Rowena. You two were never that close," he pointed out.

She sighed and stared into the fire, avoiding her husband's eyes. "I know, I was a terrible mother – I didn't spend enough time with her like a mother should – but she always seemed fine with how we raised her..." she prevaricated.

"Because you refused to see her little rebellions," he gently explained. "She would come to me when you were too busy to listen or felt you were too unreasonable in your demands. Her brother was already gone into the world by the time she started her schooling."

Firelight glistened off the tears that silently tracked down the mother's cheeks. "Perhaps so..." she conceded before looking at him seated across from her.

"I know I'm dying, Sal, that's why I wanted to see her one last time. Really, truly, that is the only reason."

He cocked his head sideways as he gazed into her eyes, taking in the nuances of her mannerisms, this woman that he knew so well – that he'd fought for when younger, that he'd slept next to for over forty years. He knew she was holding something back, but he also knew she would never tell him what it was; he'd just have to accept what she said and move on from there.

Of course, he had a secret, too. One he would never reveal to her. Two could play at that game. He told himself he was keeping his knowledge a secret for noble reasons. He wasn't too sure if hers was hidden for the same ideal. There had been a reason she had sent the Baron after their daughter, and it wasn't just to persuade the girl to come home. Unfortunately, the Baron's retinue were unaware of any further reasons for the mission, and the chief participants were now beyond the veil, their magically preserved bodies slowly wending their way home. It would be weeks before the two would be back in Scotland and by then, Rowena would be joining them in the niches below the chapel. It would be a sad Yuletide this year.

"Well, shall we enjoy a bit of supper? Pibeo left a tray for us – I smell Helga's onion soup!" he said, trying to tempt her. He floated the tray over to rest on a hassock that was between them, removing the lids so that the delicious smell permeated the room.

Rowena sniffed appreciatively. "Perhaps a little bit, with a heel of the bread?"

"That's my lady," he murmured as he dipped up a small bowl of the soup, placing a generous portion of the long loaf of hot, crusty bread beside it after he'd spread some fresh butter on the warm, inner sanctum.

**Saturday September 16****th****, 2006 – The Ministry, London**

Because of the age of the documents, Harry had made several duplicates for both of them to peruse and filed the originals in his office safe, which was secured under Goblin-devised warding spells courtesy of his brother-in-law, Bill Weasley.

"No one can break into there," he pointed out to the liaison officer. "Alright, you've had two days to read these; what do they say and why were they forwarded to us?"

Brian sat back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling while he gathered his thoughts. "These seem to be diary pages of a clerk; one who was in the retinue of a Scottish or Welsh noble, possibly titled – it is a bit unclear. He tells of his lord being infatuated for years with a lady who had spurned his advances. She had gone to the continent to escape him, but when her mother fell ill he was sent to find her..."

"And bring her back, but instead he ended up killing her, and committed suicide in the wake of her murder," Harry concluded.

Brian stared at him for a moment then blinked. "You've heard this story before."

"Yes, I'm the only one who does know it – well, aside from two ghosts at Hogwarts. But that is all I know. The Bloody Baron won't talk about it, and it took a lot of desperate persuading on my part to get the Gray Lady to impart hers. Does it give the Baron's name? That was something I never learned."

Brian leafed through his copies. "No, it never mentions him by name, only refers to him as 'My Lord'."

Harry began pacing around his office. "Ever since I spoke with her, I've always felt there was more to the story." He turned to the confused officer. "This all has to do with the founders of Hogwarts – four of the greatest Wizards and Witches in our country; next to Merlin in stature. These two people are ghosts at the school; they've been there for nearly a thousand years. The Gray Lady is the ghost belonging to the Ravenclaw house and the Bloody Baron is Slytherin's haunt. During the final battle, when I was hunting down the last of Voldemort's Horcruxes, I discovered via the Gray Lady that the final, physical Horcrux was a diadem belonging to her mother that she had stolen and hidden away in a hollow tree in Albania. Her mother, you see, was one of the founders of our school – Rowena Ravenclaw – and it was said that her diadem imparted great wisdom to those who wore it. I have no idea if that is true, although I wouldn't put it past her to Charm it to do so." He stopped in front of his desk and leaned back on it.

"In any case, Rowena kept secret the theft but when she was dying, she sent the Baron – who she knew to be in love with her daughter – after her to persuade her to come home. The meeting did not go well. The Baron became enraged and killed Helena, the daughter. In his grief, he committed suicide. The clerk's notes seem to verify that tale that she told me."

"What happened to the diadem?" Brian asked, curious.

"Voldemort persuaded Helena to tell him the story when he was in school and he went to Albania to find it. He turned it into a Horcrux and hid it back in the school during the early sixties where it lay until I found it and it was destroyed in Fiend Fyre."

"A little drastic, don't you think?" Brian commented with a quirk of his mouth.

Harry eyed him with an answering smile. "Perhaps; but I didn't start it. However, it did get the job done. By the way, that is essentially one of only two ways we know to destroy a Horcrux, the other is basilisk venom. Good to know in case you should ever come across one." The lieutenant committed the piece of trivia to his well-ordered mind. "So," his boss continued. "We know that the story is a thousand years old and that it was a murder/suicide that essentially resolved itself – is there anything you wish to pursue further about this?"

"Yes, I'd like to see if I can discover the Baron's true identity. Do you think he would consent to an interview?"

Harry raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You know, I honestly don't know. He might, and he could just as easily blow right through you – I don't recommend that, by the way; getting skelped by a ghost is downright weird." He mock-shivered, in demonstration, while moving back to his desk chair.

"Look, I've got enough on my plate this week – my wife is expecting our second child any day now; why don't you see what you can find. Go to Hogwarts and try to talk to the Baron. Consider it part of getting to know your British counterpart's history – it is much more interesting doing it this way than reading 'Hogwarts, a History'." He began writing on a slip of parchment before sliding it across the desk to his colleague. "Here's an introductory letter to the Headmistress. Tell her when we discover the entire story and all the players, I'll write it up and she can place it in the archives – or have the new History professor teach it. We really don't know a lot about that era of the school," he pointed out. "It is mostly legends instead of hard fact."

"Thanks, sir, I'll head up there this afternoon," Brian said while pocketing the slip. He stuffed his copy of the papers back into his folder and headed back to his desk to straighten it up before Flooing to Hogsmeade, Scotland.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Glad people are enjoying this little ficlet. Thanks for being so patient while waiting for Abbs. If you are wondering - this is the only NCIS tie, the rest of the gang does not make an appearance. And I feel quite safe in telling you this as the entire fic is written - for once. :-) BTW, in case any of the loyal readers are wondering, Les Dowich and I will be at LeakyCon 2011 this summer so if you are going, please feel free to say hello! And, as before, I claim ownership of nothing except Brian.**

**Saturday, September 16****th****, 2006 – Heathrow Airport, London**

Deplaning at Heathrow, Abby Sciuto made her way to the customs area with the rest of her fellow international travellers. She felt a bit naked without her umbrella and regular daily hardware, but this was post 9-11 and Gibbs, her boss, had made it clear that none of that would make it through the inspections, so it was all packed away in her sealed luggage.

Her regular makeup and clothing choice, however, ensured that she got her requisite number of curious looks. Not that she cared; she had her own sense of style and it worked. For her.

She slowly wended her way through the line, hoisting her backpack onto the table and handing over her passport to the agent on duty. His eyes glanced at her once; his only reaction - a slightly raised eyebrow, which she responded to with a bright cheerful smile.

"And how long will you be visiting, Miss Sciuto?" he enquired, his accent endearing him to her immediately.

"Two weeks. I'm visiting family," she happily supplied, accepting back her now stamped passport.

"Welcome to Great Britain, then," he said, indicating she could continue on to baggage claim.

"Thank you!" She grabbed her bag and passed through the gate heading to the general area where she was to meet her Aunt and young cousin.

Scanning the surrounding crowds of people, her gaze settled on a head of wavy, dark brown hair that was accented with streaks of grey.

"Aunt Andi!" she cried and bustled over to the older woman, getting engulfed in the loving arms of her aunt. "And who is this bright boy?" she asked, pulling back and ruffling the short purple do on the head of a child who was looking at her visible tattoos with wide eyes. "I don't think we've met since you've gotten so big. The last time, you were a little baby in your Grandma's arms. Hi, I'm your cousin, Abby." She held out her hand to him as if he was an adult.

He took it with a huge grin on his face and shook it heartily. "I'm Teddy... Teddy Lupin!"

"Well, Teddy... Teddy Lupin, I think we are going to get along great! How old are you now? Seven?" she guessed as she let her aunt lead the way to baggage claim.

"I'm eight!" he said proudly. "And the tallest and oldest of the cousins!"

"Of course you are!" Abby agreed with a grin. Exchanging traditional enquiries about the health and well being of various family members, the trio made their way over to the rumbling carrels and watched as the luggage tumbled down onto the conveyer belt. Abby stood at the ready, spotting her bag right away – the skull and crossbones on it making it a unique and easy piece to distinguish amongst the brown and black look-a-likes.

"Gotcha!" she cried, snagging the suitcase by the handle and hoisting it over the lip onto the floor. She turned it upright and released the handle, giving her aunt the look that said, 'Shall we?'

The older woman led the way to a private alcove, out of the way of prying eyes and taking her grandson's hand and one of Abby's, began to turn on the spot. A porter, hearing a popping sound from the area, looked around the corner – but saw no one.

0000

"Whoa, big guy – don't fall over there!" Abby cried out as they landed in the backyard of her Aunt's house. Teddy just laughed as he picked himself up off the ground.

"Uncle Harry can't land either!" he yelled as he ran into the house, whooping and hollering.

"Uncle Harry?" Abby asked then remembered. "Oh, yes, his godfather – the one that Voldemort was after... Harry Potter?"

Her aunt nodded her head as they followed him into the kitchen area. "Teddy spends nearly every weekend with him and his family. If I wasn't so attached to this old place, I'd probably just move us in with them. But, I can't leave. Your uncle is everywhere in here." She looked around at the comfortable furnishings, an easy chair in one corner taking on the look of a shrine – just waiting for its master to return with an old pair of comfortable leather slippers sitting next to it, and pipe and tobacco on the table next to it with a book of old Muggle matches. Abby went over and picked up the pipe, breathing in the scent of her Uncle Teddy's favourite blend of tobacco: Longbottom Leaf. The sweet aroma still hung around the bowl.

"I miss him..." she said in a husky voice. "Him and Dora, both."

"I know, darling," her aunt said, giving the Goth a slight squeeze around the shoulders. "Come on, I'm putting you in Dora's old room. Teddy has his own across the hall. I don't know why you didn't take an international Portkey; I could have arranged one for you easily. I just don't trust these – planes; especially after those Death-Eater wannabees a few years ago."

"And I don't like Portkeys, Aunty. It was fine; I'm fine. See, I made it here in one piece." She demonstrated, turning a small pirouette in the centre of the room.

"And what a fine piece it is, at that!" came a strong male voice from the kitchen area. Abby peeked around the corner and discovered a tall, freckled red head was just closing the back door. Her grin lit up her face as she shoved her suitcase into the open door of her bedroom and she ran down the hall to give the man a giant bear-hug.

"George! It's so good to see you! Did you get my latest analysis?"

George let his booming laughter fill the tiny kitchen. "Of course, and Ron and I tweaked the formula just like you said we should. Works perfect now. So how long did Gibbs let you loose this time?"

"Two weeks. And I intend to relax. Too much has happened in the last couple of years – I need to unwind. Although with the boys running my lab..." She let the threat dangle in mid-air as George accepted a steaming cup of tea from his hostess.

"Thanks, Andi. I'm here on special assignment from my sister: you are all invited over to Grimmauld Place for dinner this evening. The whole gang will be there. Ginny thinks tonight is the night, so we are going to hold a countdown party. It's a bit of a tradition since Teddy was born."

"Countdown for what?" Abby asked, her gaze bouncing between each of the adult faces.

"Potter scion number two," George answered, holding up two fingers. "She is overdue by two weeks, and her complaints are legendary. She has poor Harry and Kreacher bouncing at her every whim; she learned well from mum!" He began laughing. "I could tell you tales..." but was stopped by a head slap from Andromeda which caused Abby to start giggling.

"You keep those stories to yourself, mister. No wagging tongues about your mother here. Don't forget, Teddy is home!"

"Sorry, Andi," George apologised, but under cover of taking a sip while the matron's back was turned he whispered to Abby, "I'll tell you later."

She giggled silently, eyes crinkling in controlled mirth and nodded her agreement. Her aunt could give her boss a lesson or two in Head Slapping 101. Or perhaps they could teach a dual course at the Auror College.

"So, can I tell her you'll come?" he asked in a regular tone.

"Of course. Does she need anything?" Andi asked, joining the two at the table.

"Nah, just her belly to pop. This one is really stretching her to her limit. And of course she's trying to keep up with James, as well and Kreacher is too old to wrangle a toddler. Harry offered to take his leave early, but she wouldn't hear of it. Said if mum could do it, so could she." He shook his head ruefully as he sipped more of the milky brew. "We're all walking on eggshells around her right now. I'm really hoping Potter part deux comes tonight – we could use the relief."

Abby slapped his shoulder. "George! That's your sister!"

"Ouch!" he rubbed his shoulder. "Merlin, Abbs, you've got a mean left hook there. Look, you go over there tonight and you'll see if you don't believe me. So, Abbs," George asked, changing the subject in mid-stream. "Seeing anyone?" He waggled his eyebrows luridly at her and she cracked up. She'd known George for many years now, meeting the twins just as they were putting together their secret plans for a joke shop. George had developed a crush on the American Muggle and had been angling to date her for years, but she didn't see him that way and never would. To her, he was a dear friend – and she insisted on keeping it that way.

"No one I'm going to tell you about, Weasley. Besides, I had this creepy guy stalking me for awhile – and, well – it just put me off of dating for the time being," she explained. Andromeda turned a concerned face in her direction, and Abby hastened to reassure her. "Don't worry about it, he was caught – and so was the real stalker. I'm fine, Andi, really!" Teddy came in, his hair now black, sporting silver streaks. "Hey, my man, come and sit next to me," she said, patting the seat next to her. "Tell me about yourself; who's your favourite Quidditch team?" she asked, and the little boy's face lit up as he animatedly launched into his favourite time-consuming hobby.

**Saturday, September 16****th****, 2006 – Hogwarts Castle, Scotland**

Brian walked up the long sloping carriageway that led from the main road out of Hogsmeade up the low hill to the presiding castle that dominated the landscape. He'd been hearing tales about this place ever since he'd landed in England and, even at his own school, there had been legends bandied about. About halfway up he spied a white marble mausoleum through the trees that stood sentinel over the lake, autumn colours creating a beautiful backdrop for the simple white monument. He knew that it contained the body of Dumbledore, one of the greatest wizards in modern times – certainly one of the most famous.

Beyond the little clearing that held the tomb, a simple circular hut sat amidst a garden ablaze with colour. A very tall man - dressed in simple homespun and wielding, of all things, a pink umbrella that he poked his humongous pumpkins with – was puttering around in the garden, an ancient boarhound lounging in the sun nearby, white hairs covering his entire muzzle.

He spied Brian coming up the walk and called out to him. "Mornin'! Yeh look like yeh could use a cuppa! Yeh must be Brian – all the way from Ameriky; 'Arry flooed me about yeh; said teh keep an eye out for yeh," he explained as Brian cut across the field to meet the man.

Brian wasn't a slouch in the height department; he easily stood a foot above his own boss and was quite proud of his 6'6" stature. But Hagrid had to be the tallest man he'd ever met; he made him feel like he was back in Middle-School! Brian had to crane his neck to look up into the man's face.

Hagrid chuckled at the look on Brian's face. "I'm 'alf-giant, don't yeh know?"

Well that explained it! "You think Harry could've warned me!" he complained as he followed the man into the interior of the hut.

"I've known 'Arry since 'ee was a wee baby. Prob'ly didn' think nothing' of it," Hagrid explained, chuckling under his bushy beard. He set out cups and saucers, preparing a proper English tea for this American Auror.

"We don't have giants in the US, at least not full-blooded ones. We've had a few who've managed to have film careers..."

Hagrid beamed as he poured the tea. "Ah, that would be me cousin, Andre, from the continent. I 'eard 'ee had quite the career."

"Mm, managed to catch several of his films myself, although my favourite was "Princess Bride"."

Hagrid proudly showed off his hut to this new visitor, pointing out various oddities and ingredients that he'd picked up among his sojourns in the forest. They sipped companionably on the tea while Fang leaned against Brian, begging for the rock cakes which Brian gladly slipped him, having nearly chipped a tooth on the one he'd tried to taste. "So, did Harry tell you why I was here?" he asked after they'd finished the tea and Brian had delighted his host by telling the large man about his distant cousin.

"Nope, jes said you need to talk to the ghosts. Nick is roundin' them up for yeh."

"Great, I should be heading up then. Thanks for the refreshment, Hagrid. It was a pleasure meeting you, and you too, Fang!" He bent down to give the boar hound a rub between the ears, which Fang ate up like the sybaritic creature he was. Brian had gained a friend for life, especially when he slipped the beast another one of his master's baked goods. Brian stood up and let his hand be engulfed in the hearty handshake that he was subjected to by Hagrid that nearly ripped his arm off in its enthusiasm.

Waving goodbye, he continued on up the path to the castle, admiring the stone circle that lay at the top of the hill and enjoying the view from the covered walkway that led him to the main courtyard. He could have stood there forever, gazing out at the scenery – but he had a meeting to attend. He truly hoped this 'Nick' could round up the ghosts as Hagrid had said. He was met there by a severe looking woman in black and green plaid, old-fashioned witches hat jauntily tilted on her greying head.

"Lieutenant Brian Boswell, I presume?" she asked as he approached. She held out her hand in greeting. "I'm Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts. Harry says you are here to interview the ghosts?"

"Yes, specifically the Gray Lady and the Bloody Baron. Was Nick able to find them and persuade them to talk to me?" he asked, falling into step with her as she led him through the huge oak and iron doors. "Whoa..." he stopped, flabbergasted at the sight that met him as his eyes grew accustomed to the dimmer light inside.

McGonagall paused in her walking and looked back at him, an amused expression on her face. "Yes, it does that to new visitors nearly every time. Welcome to Hogwarts, Lieutenant Boswell." She watched as he turned in place taking in the seven story central shaft, the shifting stairwells, the talking portraits that were eyeing him with great interest, gossiping back and forth between frames, and the overall majesty of the castle.

"Consider me suitably impressed," he said after letting out a low whistle. He shook himself back to the present and let his gaze finally drop sheepishly back on the headmistress. "Sorry, Harry didn't warn me... seems to be my refrain for the day."

"Understandable; Hogwarts tends to defy description. If you'll follow me, I'll lead you to a sitting room where _Sir_ Nicholas will meet with you." He didn't miss the stress on the honorific for the ghost and started to flashback again to his formative years and his father's strict insistence on manners. "I'm unsure as to which of the ghosts he has persuaded to attend. Auror Potter didn't give me much background..." she intimated, climbing the long flight of stairs that led to the second floor gallery.

"We came across some documents in an estate sale that indicated a murder had occurred and as there is no statute of limitations, we were obligated to investigate. It wasn't until we read through them that it was discovered it was nearly a millennium-old murder/suicide that had taken place. Auror Potter decided that it would be prudent to close the case and get all the facts together in one place. He said that the Grey Lady and the Bloody Baron were involved and that he was the only one who currently had that knowledge. So, here I am – hoping that they will tell us ... 'The Rest of the Story'." He said the last in an imitation of a famous radio personality from the States. The characterisation was lost on McGonagall, and he ended up being the only one smiling at his own joke while she only raised an eyebrow in his direction.

"Here we are," she said, giving him an odd look as she opened the door to a small, but well-appointed, lounge. A small cheery fire was ablaze in the fireplace, warming up the air in the chamber. Walking through the halls he'd discovered that the Scottish winter was quickly approaching and he welcomed the warmth the fire gave off.

A tea service for two was set off to one side and there were two ghostly figures drifting around the room. A be-ruffled Tudor courtier approached him with a smile while the other one stayed on the opposite side of the room, studiously ignoring the living.

"Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington, at your service," he declared, bowing graciously as he introduced himself. "As Harry Potter has requested, I have brought the lady. I regret to say that the Baron refused to attend."

"I understand, Sir Nicholas, thank you for your aid," Brian said, giving the shade a bow in return. "Professor, would you care to join me?" he asked the headmistress as Nicholas left by phasing through the wall. "There appear to be two settings."

"I'd love to, but I do have a class to teach." A distant ringing bell, indicating a class change, lent credence to her claim as distant doors slammed open and rushing footsteps filled the ringing hallways outside the door. "Please take as much time as you need and if you are in need of any further refreshment or supplies, just call out for a House-elf and they will appear. Good luck," she whispered conspiratorially to him, eyeing the wraith as she spoke.

"Thanks," he whispered back. Despite her schoolmarm looks, she had a direct approach he liked, and an underlying dry sense of humour so common to the British that he thoroughly appreciated. He waited until she was out of the room, firmly closing the door behind her before he approached the sitting area and poured himself a cup of tea that he quickly transfigured into coffee, liberally dosing it with the cream that stood nearby.

He sat in the chair and brought out the copies of the journal. The ghost drifted closer, curious in spite of herself, to lean in and get a look.

"That looks familiar," whispered the lady. "It has been a long time since I've seen it, though."

"It belonged to a clerk," prompted Brian.

Her eyes brightened up in remembrance. "Aye, Llewellyn – a bright enough lad. He was in the Baron's retinue. One of Rowena's favourites; originally promised for the Monastery at Llancarvan; Rowena discovered him one day bouncing after falling from an apple tree." Brian nodded as he recognised the feat of spontaneous magic. "She promised his parents his education would be just as complete in Hogwarts as in the Monastery and that his gift would be honed to do the Lord's work. Of course, being married to Slytherin, she didn't specify _which_ Lord she was talking about." The girl smiled at her own little jest and Brian caught himself grinning as well.

"So, Rowena was married to Salazar Slytherin... I take it that Helga was then married to Gryffindor?" Brian asked, trying to get a lay of the land. He'd read the famous book that seemed to be required reading whenever you entered wizarding society in Great Britain, "Hogwarts, a History"; but there was precious little information concerning the founders and their time period despite their importance to the castle and British Wizarding society as a whole. Thus, he was nearly bowled over when the ghost confirmed his question.

"The Baron's parents? Aye, they were wedded," she stated as a matter of course.

"His parents? Then he was..."

"Grystin Gryffindor, Baron of Gryffin Hollow," she spat, looking away with a sniff. "I believe it is now called Godric's Hollow – after his father."

After sputtering into his coffee for a moment, Brian regained his composure and made a note on his pad of paper.

"Is there a problem, Mr Boswell?" the ghost asked, genuinely concerned.

"No... no problem. It appears his identity has been lost over time, is all," he explained. "Auror Potter explained to me a short version of your deaths, but it would be beneficial to hear the entire story and why you both ended up haunting the castle. Didn't your deaths occur elsewhere?"

"Albania," Helena supplied. "I was... travelling."

Brian raised an eyebrow. Travelling did not jive with the information his boss had imparted to him, and he said as much.

"I was not..." she sighed, a chilling sound in the warm chamber, and sat down primly on the divan across from Brian. "Fine, I was running away. If you spoke to that young man, you know I stole my mother's coronet – called the diadem in recent times." Brian nodded to encourage her tale.

"I took it for various reasons: to spite her, to gain wisdom for myself, many selfish and childish reasons that mean nothing now, but were overwhelming at the time." She gazed down at the clasped hands in her lap. "I was seventeen, you see. Freshly completed with my apprenticeship and always eager to learn more. I was too full of myself and what I saw as my potential, than to listen to wiser mouths." Her hands clenched in remembered frustration before she looked up at the living wizard.

"I've had many centuries to regret my actions. I soon discovered that only mother knew how to access the wisdom of the crystals," she confessed.

"What were in the crystals?" Brian prompted.

She glanced at Brian before continuing. "I suppose I can tell you, it's been destroyed... Mother had managed to fit all the knowledge in her books into the crystal matrices of the gemstones. And each set of gemstones were attuned to the knowledge gained from each founder of the school. As far as I know this has never been duplicated. Many have tried, none have succeeded," she stated, a touch of pride at her mother's singular accomplishment in her voice.

Amazed at the feat of magic this represented, Brian asked the obvious next question. "Why?"

She looked at him, honestly astounded for a second and her answer made him feel once again like a schoolboy whose hands had been slapped by the teacher. What was it with this place? "You try carrying around those huge spell books from that era – there are several in the restricted section of the library here, you can try it for yourself!" she scoffed.

"Of course," he muttered, making another note on his pad to cover his embarrassment. "So only your mother had access?"

"Yes, the other founders knew what it was, but they weren't interested in using it – it was just one of mother's special objects, something they saw as only benefiting her. But I coveted it and its knowledge; I hoped it would have answers for me – give me the means to be independent. I thought to set myself up as a court sorceress and, with the knowledge of the coronet, use it to advise great kings all over the world – I would command greatness..." Her ghostly eyes sparked with remembered dreams of grandeur.

"Creating a powerbase for yourself," he said, bringing her back to the present. "So, when that plan fell through, why not return to Scotland?"

"I was ashamed... I kept thinking it would eventually work for me. I was her daughter, after all, I had helped choose what knowledge would be stored; I _should_ be able to gain access to it." Her voice still carried a hint of the anger she had felt a millennia ago when she had first discovered that the coronet was nothing but a pretty piece of jewellery for her.

"How long were you gone?" Brian asked after giving her a moment to herself.

"Long enough," she said bitterly. "Mother became ill, so she sent Grystin after me." A baleful look came over her countenance and she refused to say anything else, frustrating the lieutenant.

He tried a different tact. "I was expecting to speak to the Baron as well, why isn't he here?"

"I haven't spoken to him since he killed me – do you think I would speak to him now? Go find him yourself!" She flounced out of the room, gliding right through him and, behind him, the wall – causing him to shiver uncontrollably with the sudden icy feeling that moved through his body. Harry was right – skelping was not a pleasant feeling.

"Well, that went well..." Brian quipped to the silent room.


	4. Chapter 4

**November, 1032 – Hogwarts Castle, Scotland**

Helga gently crossed her friend's hands on her chest, smoothing out the covers and stroking the grey-streaked hair back from the cooling brow before closing Rowena's eyes. The first of them was gone, now, and if she read the signs right, it would soon just be her and Godric running the castle.

The local priest was murmuring the last rites over the body as Helga bustled about the room, tears unashamedly running down her face. Salazar stood like a statue in one corner, having wrapped the shadows about his form, the only thing visible were his piercing green eyes staring from the inky depths.

Helga paid him no heed, other than nodding in his direction one moment; but every time those eyes fastened on the hedge-priest, the little man shivered. Finally, the ritual was completed and Helga thanked the man, offering him alms for the parish which he accepted gratefully then hurried out of the cold chamber, eager to be gone from the room that fairly reeked of sorrow.

"She's gone to a better place, Sal," she spoke to the air.

"If you believe in such things," he responded coldly. "I care not either way, but I know she did so I'm sure it was a comfort for her as she departed this wretched earthly existence."

"She seemed in less pain there at the end," she offered as solace, gently stroking and arranging the hair of her late friend.

"Aye; that last potion helped some," he agreed, finally stepping out from the shadows. "Helena and Grystin will be here by the end of the month, they can all be buried at the same time. You can place a timeless-bier spell on her?" he asked, his breath catching as he spoke of the dead children.

"Of course, Salazar. She will be placed in the viewing room next to the chapel – the children will join her there for one final funeral mass." The clerk had let his employer's parents know at the same time as reporting to Slytherin and they had all decided to keep the news from Rowena – letting her die in peace, unaware of Grystin's perfidy.

He let his hand fall on his wife's cold ones. "I shall be departing afterwards, Helga. I can't stay here – put out whatever story you wish to explain it away, but I can't live here anymore, not with the reminders..." His eyes darted around the room, taking in all the familiar touches of their marriage chamber. Portraits of the children and her father and sisters, trinkets bought when they were abroad scattered on shelves and flat surfaces. A book lay open on the night-table, a feather that she used as a bookmark laid across the pages. A basket stood next to her chair near the fireplace that held various mending projects. A bit old fashioned, she loved to mend clothes with needle and thread instead of by a charm. Her favourite lap rug lay across the back of her chair and he wandered over to caress and fold it neatly – something to give his hands purpose.

"I understand, Salazar. Grystin was a foolish man, obsessed with Helena – I'm sorry it had to end this way..." She comforted, watching him pace around the chamber, eventually ending up back by his wife's bedside, just staring down at her still body.

"As am I." He fell silent then dropped to the floor on his knees, huge sobs wracking his body as he buried his head in the blankets covering his wife.

"Oh, my dear..." Helga exclaimed, rushing around the bed to comfort her friend, kneeling beside him and wrapping an arm around his shoulders, fresh tears tracking down her own face. A gentle knock at the chamber door revealed Godric as he hesitantly entered the bedroom, grief evident on his own face.

He took in the still body and his weeping colleagues. "Salazar, I grieve with thee," he said formerly, invoking the beginning of the official period of mourning. Slytherin pulled back, sitting on his haunches for a moment, accepting the little square of linen that Helga always seemed to carry with her. He noticed abstractly that it smelled faintly of vanilla as he used it to wipe away his tears. He pushed himself upright, facing his colleague.

"I thank thee for thy condolences, please pay your respects to my wife," Salazar spoke, invoking the second part of the ritual. From now on, until she was buried, wizarding tradition would take precedence over religious and there would soon be a stream of officials and commoners alike coming to pay their respects to the Architect of Hogwarts.

Godric came and stood by his friend's side, gazing down at the now peaceful face of Rowena Ravenclaw. "She just looks asleep, doesn't she..." he commented. Salazar could only nod. A weeping coming from the corner reminded them all that Pibeo was in the room and Helga went over to comfort her long time friend. But the House-elf pushed her away, straightening up and approaching Slytherin.

"I's wishes to prepare her, as is only fittin'," she declared. "She was my friend as well as being a good mistress to Pibeo." Her large eyes were swimming with unshed tears, but she stood tall in her freshly laundered tabard and Salazar could tell she considered this her last duty to Rowena.

"Of course, Pibeo. We shall leave you to it. I believe the gown she wore for the consecrating of the school? And don't forget her Coronet..."

"Yes, Master Slytherin – Pibeo shall do it as she wished." She bowed to the Wizards in the room and they left her to her final act for her mistress.

"We shall declare a week of mourning, of course," Godric started.

"Not until the children arrive, then we shall honour them all," Salazar declared, walking over to the sideboard where a crystal decanter stood. He poured out some wine into waiting goblets and passed them to his colleagues before sipping from his own. "In the meantime, they can pay their respects to her in the chapel – as is only right."

Godric stared down into his own wine cup, but did not drink. Instead, he set it aside. "Did she know?" he asked quietly.

Salazar shook his head. "Why break her heart so close to the end? It would only have hastened this day, I fear. I kept that secret from her – but yet, the mysteries abound. Why did Helena...? I – I just don't understand." His voice broke and the sound caused Godric and Helga to wince in shared sympathy.

"She didn't tell you?" Helga asked.

"No, why – do you know what it was all about?" He looked at her, hope shining in his eyes. She hated to disappoint him, but she had to.

"Why Helena left? No, the girls kept that close to themselves. Grystin is another matter." She frowned, thinking of her impetuous son. "He was not content with Helena's breaking of the contract. He felt that they had been promised together, they should be together. The fact that they were older and had grown apart never entered his head. I'm afraid he saw her as the prize that went along with his Baronetcy."

Godric agreed with his wife. "Of all our children, he was the most hot-headed. I thought that giving him the Baronetcy would settle him down. I know we had read the bans when they were children, but she certainly had made it clear before she left how she felt about that. I wasn't going to insist on something that she was so adamantly against. I believe he was truly blind to her objections, felt that she was his. I am sorry, Salazar, truly I am – I never thought he would do something..."

"Like killing my child?" His eyes flashed with anger, but quickly cooled in the face of the anguish on the other man's face.

"You lost a child, too, I know." He waved away the other's apologies. "As I told Helga, I'll be leaving when this is all over. I'm sure you understand. I shall find someone worthy to lead my students – but I'm going to seal up my private offices. There are things down there that – well, let's just say some people would not understand them and use them without the proper precautions. But I can't destroy them without causing further problems, so I'll seal up the chambers and place a watcher there. Perfectly safe, as long no one goes down there." A ghost of a smile uplifted one corner of his mouth at the small attempt at gallows humour – but his face quickly resumed its despondent visage.

The only response he received was a raised eyebrow from Godric and a tsk from Helga.

He paced over to a large desk in the corner and took out a fresh sheet of parchment, picking up a quill from the stand. He stared at it, twirling it between his thumb and forefinger, remembering giving it to his wife four years before for yuletide. It was a peacock feather, the eye bright with purples, greens, and blues surrounding a black centre. She would always bring it to him to trim the nib, stating that his cuts were always sharper and at better angles than her own. She would sit on the edge of his desk until he finished, always thanking him with a passionate kiss. Coming back to the present, he finally dipped it into the inkwell and began writing a missive to his son and heir, Sebastian, who was overseeing the family lands. He hadn't told him about his sister yet and now – now he had three deaths to tell him about. All three would hit Bast hard; Grystin was like a brother and he had been somewhat of a mediator between mother and daughter.

"Helga, could you call me my owl please?" he asked without looking up from his writing. He barely noticed as she went over to a flue in the wall and whistled a little tune into its opening. As he scattered sand over the ink to absorb the extra, he began heating the stick of sealing wax in the candle's flame. After carefully folding the parchment, he dripped the melting wax over the edges to seal it, letting it cool a moment before setting his seal ring into it. A touch of magic later, keyed only to his son – anyone else who tried to read the letter would find it dissolving into ash in their hands – and he tied it to the leg of the Barn Owl who had soared out of the opening.

"Well, that is done. All we can do now is wait..."

A high pitched keening scream assaulted their ears, and Salazar soon found himself with a lapful of upset House-elf, banging her head on the edge of his desk.

"Pibeo, Pibeo – Stop! What is the matter?" He ended up having to grab her by her arms and hold her away from him and his desk to keep her from bringing harm to herself.

"The coronet, sir, Mistress' coronet is missing!"

"Oh, Helena..." he murmured, now knowing why his daughter had run.

**Saturday, September 16****th****, 2006 – The Ministry, London**

"Well, how did it go?" Harry asked as Brian slumped in his chair late that afternoon.

"Which aspect? The half –giant who tried to break all my teeth out with his well-meaning concrete muffins, or do you mean the murdered teenager who is still harbouring a chip on her shoulder as wide as the Grand Canyon, or the suicided suitor who never even showed up!"

He snorted at his boss who was chuckling away, half-seated on the edge of his desk.

"Oh, Merlin – don't tell me you ran into Myrtle, too?"

"Myrtle? I thought her name was Helena? You mean there are two of them?" he asked incredulously. Harry laughed even harder.

"Myrtle lives in the toilet plumbing – popping up at the _most_ inappropriate times, I can tell you!" he coloured slightly as he remembered her showing up in the prefects bath his fourth year. He cleared his throat to cover his moment of embarrassment. "She was murdered in the forties. Sorry about Hagrid's treats – I should've warned you. Did you discover the Baron's identity?" he asked eagerly.

"Yes, his name is Grystin Gryffindor, Baron of Griffin Hollow, known now as Godric's Hollow." Now it was his turn to chuckle at the look on his employer's face. "So, one of the things never mentioned in that blasted history book is that Slytherin and Ravenclaw were married as were Gryffindor and Hufflepuff; to each other." He nodded as Harry's eyes went wider. "Helena was Rowena and Salazar's daughter and the Baron was Godric and Helga's son. That is about as far as I got; other than she wanted a rich and rewarding career among the European courts. There is more going on there, but he did not show up so I don't have the complete picture."

Brian shuffled some papers on his desk. "I think these two have a lot of knowledge, sir, knowledge that has been lost over the years. I would like to see what else they know of that era. I know that is not my main reason for being here – but this truly interests me; and I want to get their full story – what it was like growing up as children of the Founders."

Harry clapped him on the back. "There isn't much going on right now, why don't I floo Minerva and see if you can stay at the castle for the rest of the week – talking to the ghosts? Think you can get enough material then?"

"I certainly hope so!" Brian was excited at the prospect and couldn't stay seated, so he jumped up and pumped Harry's hand. "Thank you for the opportunity, sir."

"No problem, head back to your flat and pack while I let Minerva know you'll be staying there for a little while. By the time you get there, your quarters will be ready."

"Thank you, sir!"

**Saturday, September 16****th****, 2006 – Tonks Residence, London**

After George left, having greeted his friend and delivered his message, Abby headed back to her cousin's old room and hoisted her bag onto the bed so she could unpack. She was really looking forward to these two weeks. Caitlin's death the previous year, Gibbs taking off for several months... it was just very unsettling at work. And something was off with the Director. Abby could feel it in her bones – and Ducky knew something, but wasn't talking.

So, here she was, on a vacation in the autumn, in London. Truth be told, she loved her Uncle's family. Uncle Teddy was her mother's brother and had discovered he was a wizard when their family had been stationed in England in the sixties. The story went that Dumbledore had just taken over the headship of Hogwarts and had personally come to London to meet with the Tonks' family. They had been very impressed when he had spoken with Ted's sister, Abby's mother, in perfectly fluent sign language while speaking with the family so that she could understand what was going on with her brother's special gifts as well. She had been disappointed when she discovered she didn't have any magic, but the headmaster had made sure that she was always included in everything. Ted and his family agreed that he should go to Hogwarts to be trained and after his schooling was over, he had chosen to remain in England – having fallen in love with a beautiful dark haired Slytherin named Andromeda Black.

Her family had not been thrilled with the match, nor with the subsequent elopement and had disowned her upon hearing of the marriage. Ted had gone into business with the owner of the Leaky Cauldron, another old classmate of his, and they had run a successful business over the years until he had to go into hiding when Voldemort had taken over, eventually getting caught and killed back in '98. He had never even seen his only grandchild, his namesake – Teddy, who had been born a few weeks later only to become orphaned during the final battle at the tender age of only a few weeks old.

That had been a hard time for Abby. She had been really close to her uncle and cousin, and was just finishing her Masters at GSU when the news had made its way across the pond.

She and Dora had similar tastes in music, clothes and lifestyle in general. They were often mistaken as sisters when seen together when they were younger, and had often shared CDs of favourite indie bands that they would find in their respective stomping grounds. They both loved _avant garde_ rock music – the weirder and more underground the sound, the better. Dora had often practiced her metamorph capabilities by making herself look more like her cousin – playing all sorts of havoc on unsuspecting people. One of the reasons Abby liked George so much – he understood the loss of a twin.

Abby would always try to make it to England during the summer, when she was younger, just to spend time with the Tonks. She had met Remus a few times during the mid-nineties and knew long before he did that Dora was hooked onto him and didn't care about his "furry little problem". Long letters were sent across the ocean between the cousins lamenting over his inability to see reason and Abby had danced in joy when he had finally proposed and they'd quickly married before a magistrate – so quickly, in fact, that Abby never even had time to attend. Then she had rejoiced again at the news of Dora's pregnancy. She had made it back for a memorial service that had taken place over the summer, honouring all of the fallen during that long, long night of hell.

Unfortunately, after the war was over, she had moved right into her PhD program and gotten her position at NCIS, travelling to England had taken a backseat. But Gibbs was back from his self-proclaimed retirement and he had practically pushed her out the door, Caf-pow in hand, and said to take a vacation and visit her family. So, she did.

She felt infinitely better as she took a quick shower to wash off travel grime, and redressed in hip-slung cargo pants, belted with a silver chain, a French t-shirt, a dog-collar whose chains matched the belt, popped her pigtails up into mini-buns and got out her favourite pair of biker boots. Much better. She almost felt human now. If only she could find a source of Caf-pow in England, she would have it made. She'd just have to make do with lots of Espressos.

She looked around the room for a moment, remembering her teenage years with her cousin, cranking the stereo on high; pyjama parties on the floor; loads of popcorn, pizza and Thai or Indian take-out food and Uncle Ted yelling at them to turn it down, he wanted to watch his football or Cricket game.

The Weird Sister posters were still on the wall – they had spent a summer crewing for their favourite Wiz-Rock band, and some of the members still kept in contact with Abby – and the paperbacks they loved, nearly to pieces, were stacked on the sagging brick and board shelves. She ran her fingers over the hand-stained wood, another summer memory coming into play. They had scrounged the local junk yard to find just the right scrap lumber and painfully lugged all those bricks back to her relative's house. Uncle Ted had helped them pick out the stain and shown them how to rub with the grain of the wood in long strokes, stating that some things just had to be done the old-fashioned way.

"You two could certainly try my patience," Andromeda said, standing in the doorway looking on fondly and startling Abby for a moment. "But you both turned out all right." She looked over at her niece, frowning as she took in some of the new body art that she hadn't seen before. "Didn't you have enough tattoos already?" The disappointment was clear in her voice. In her day, young ladies did not permanently mar their bodies. She knew it was different now, but she thought her niece had enough of these as it was.

"I love these!" Abby pouted. "Oh, and wait 'till you see this one!" She reached behind her to raise up the back of her shirt exposing the ornate cross tattooed across the lower half of her back. "That's my tribute to Uncle Teddy and Dora," she explained lowering her shirt back down.

Andi nodded quietly. "Well, girls in my day and age didn't do that – but it is a different time now, I understand that. And you certainly did turn out to be a credit to the family – you and Dora both," she said, sniffing back a tear. Abby immediately went over to her aunt and hugged her tight, eventually pulled back and smiling at her aunt. "I like to think so. Are we ready to go? Should I stop and get anything?" She snagged a small backpack and shrugged it on, settling the padded straps on her shoulders.

"We're fine, Abby. Come on, we can Floo over – Harry has opened the connection for tonight."

"Ohhh, I love Flooing!" Abby said, clapping her hands in excitement and hurrying out to the front room where Teddy was already standing by the tall hearth, jar of Floo powder in his hands.

"Alright, Ted, you first," directed Andromeda, taking the jar from her grandson and letting him grab a handful of dust. He confidently stepped into the fireplace and dropped his portion at his feet calling out "Number twelve, Grimmauld place," in his high piping voice. The green flame rose around him and he disappeared with a flash and a grin.

"He is so happy, since he turned eight, that I allow him to go to his Godfather's place and the Burrow to play with the Cousins all on his own," Andromeda said with a chuckle. "All right, you next." She held out the bowl to Abby and she grabbed a handful, throwing it down and speaking the destination clearly. The green flames whipped her away, spinning her around. She wanted to yell "Wheeeeee" and throw her arms out in joy – like on a roller coaster ride - but knew from prior experience that it was not a good idea: choking on Floo dust was not fun. Nor was getting your elbows and knees banged up from bouncing off of brick chimneys, so she kept her limbs straight and tight against her body as she watched grate after grate flash by until her momentum slowed and she finally stopped at a much larger grate than the one she had just left.

"Abby! So glad you could make it!" said a deep voice, and a hand reached out to steady her as she stepped out of the fireplace into an old-fashioned Victorian parlour. She looked up at her rescuer and discovered that it was the home's owner, Harry Potter himself, who was helping her out. He ran his wand over her quickly, getting rid of the excess soot that always seemed to cling to her when she Flooed.

"Thanks, glad I could come!" She moved quickly away from the open hearth as she could hear the rumblings start for her Aunt's arrival.

Teddy was already gone with a bushel of youngsters already chasing after him. Abby spotted a strawberry blonde girl, maybe a year or so younger than Teddy, then there were lots of red-headed children of varying ages that stepped down to the youngest dark auburn headed youngster who was giggling up a storm as he followed after the rest of the kids, short legs pumping away in his footed PJs.

Harry watched them indulgently for a moment. "My son is the youngest one there – that's James. Teddy is like an older brother, he's over here so much. I wish Andromeda would just move in here – the house is as much hers as it is mine. More, even, as she is the oldest Black sister."

"And I keep telling you, Harry, I won't do it," she replied, stepping out of the Floo, spotless as usual. She leaned her cheek up to accept the kiss he bestowed on it in welcome.

"You are too stubborn by half, Andi," he accused.

"Yes I am," she agreed. "Now, where's your wife – Teddy! Slow down, boy! The babies can't keep up. Why don't you and Victoire take them all to the nursery and pick out some board games to bring down here to play?" she suggested to the delight of the under-ten crowd. The kids clambered up the stairs, nearly running down Kreacher, the House-elf, in the process – all calling out suggestions to their ring-leader.

"Thanks, Andi. Ginny's just visiting the bathroom; she'll be back in a moment. She's been having Braxton-hicks contractions all week, but they are stronger today."

Andi and Abby both nodded knowledgeably. "How far apart?" Andi asked.

"Ten minutes, so we have a ways to go. Get ready for a long night," he warned. "Here, come and mingle, you know everyone anyways, we've set out food in the dining room – just fix a plate when you are hungry – I'll just check on Gin-gin." He headed down the hallway and Andi began introducing Abby to those people who hadn't met her yet in previous years, and getting hugs from those she did know.

0000

Abby was on the floor, eyes concentrating on the hand she had been dealt in the latest round of exploding snap. They had tripled up on the deck and had a mixed bag of participants: Ron, Harry, George, Bill, Percy, Teddy and Mr Weasley were all on the carpet and whiling away the hours. Ginny was restless, getting up every so often to walk around – talking to her belly and trying to coax the baby into coming now!

Apparently Ron's wife wasn't that far behind Ginny, time wise. She still had a few weeks to go, but they looked like an identical pair of beached whales and had their husbands and families wrapped around their fingers. Fleur and Penny, Percy's wife, were sitting court - along with Molly and Andromeda - on the two very pregnant women.

Arthur was fascinated with Abby and she indulged his questions all evening long, being a source of Muggle information for him from the America's. With her wide range of Forensics training, she could regale him with loads of stories about all sorts of Muggle appliances and cars – leading to a discussion about the car he had enchanted to fly years ago. Harry and Ron had grinned conspiratorially during that discussion while Molly had pursed her lips from her spot on the couch.

"Where is the car now?" Abby asked.

"Probably still in the Forbidden Forest. Hagrid tells me he spots it every now and then. It's gone feral, though – tends to drive away when it spots humans," Harry said.

"So, you're not magical yourself?" Arthur asked Abby at one point.

"Not that I know. Although, either I or my boss have some sort of thing going on, because he always shows up in my lab when I have identified some piece of evidence. It's spooky, ya know? Uncle Teddy was the only one in the family I knew. But as fascinated with Muggles that you are, I am fascinated by Magicals. Did you know Dora and I followed the Weird Sisters one summer on tour? That was one of the best times ever!"

"And caused Ted and I to have heart attacks wondering what you two were up to!" Andi remarked.

"Having a great time!" Abby shot back with a grin. She looked down at the pile in front of her and her hand shot down to land a card. "Snap!" The men around her groaned as Andi noted the time and chivvied Teddy upstairs to bunk down with the younger kids while Ginny made another trip to the loo.

While Abby scraped in the pot, she looked around the room taking in the various people there. "So, where is Snape? I thought he'd be here, too..."

Everyone looked at her weirdly, some gasping loudly. George absently rubbed the side of his head where he was missing an earlobe, remembering the night they had been attacked in the air, Snape's stray curse marring him forever – and giving him a world of ear jokes to play off of. Harry had explained much later that Snape had not been aiming for him, and that had somewhat mollified the bereft twin.

"What did I say?" she asked, clearly baffled at the reaction she was getting. People were looking at her as if she was from Mars, or had said that Merlin was a Muggle. Was Snape still that anathema to the group? She knew there had been some question of his loyalty years ago – but surely that had been cleared up by now? She had really expected Snape to make an appearance as well. After all, the rest of the Order was there.

Hermione took pity on the bewildered woman, shushing the murmuring crowd. "Abby, Snape died during the war – he's been gone these eight years," she gently explained. "Harry, Ron and I saw him die ourselves – he was killed by Voldemort's snake, Nagini."

Harry looked curiously at Abby, who obviously had been expecting the Potions master to be present. "You know, Hermione," he pointed out before Abby could defend her question, "I went back to secure his body and it was gone..."

His friend whipped around to face him. "You told me Malfoy took it!" she accused – a finger wagging down in his face.

"I said I _thought_ Malfoy took it, I never verified that – it seemed a reasonable conclusion at the time and, if he was alive, why hasn't anyone heard from him in all this time?" he explained and she huffed, clearly peeved at him.

"Well, in that case, I must be corresponding with a ghost..." Abby stated to the room in general, causing the group to snap their attention back to her in that moment. Just as they were about to question her, however, their hostess burst into the room.

"My water broke!" Ginny cried, effectively garnering the room's attention before they had time to process what Abby had said, although Hermione gave her a wondering look.

* * *

**A/N: Well, you aren't killing me yet, so I must be doing something right! Actually, I researched the hell out of Abby. You really do not want to know how much info there is on the net about her. In my mind, especially after her comment about her Uncle Ted, who ran a bar... How could I not make her part of the Tonks? Seriously? It was waaaay too convenient. And she and Tonks are approximately the same age and would have been running around together so easily... And, duh duh duh... guess who is back? Really? A Snake bite? C'mon... Of course I've revived him.  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: What? You'd thought I'd leave you hanging? I'm not that cruel... well, maybe - in retrospect - I am. But, not today. Today you get a treat. Enjoy.**

**Saturday, September 16****th****, 2006 – Grimmauld Place, London**

Abby had volunteered to stay back at the house to keep an eye on the children while everyone else Flooed or Apparated to St Mungo's hospital. Being so far along, Hermione offered to stay as well and the two women waved farewell to the group before retiring to the parlour where Kreacher had already gone through and straightened the room, leaving behind a steaming tea tray.

Hermione let the Goth serve the tea and leaned back against the back of the Chesterfield, sipping contentedly at the fragrant brew while kicking off her flats and setting her swollen feet up on the footstool Kreacher had conveniently left for her.

"Ok, everyone is gone now – what did you mean you've been corresponding with Professor Snape?" Hermione began her grilling.

"But I have! I met him years ago when Dora was studying for her Auror exam," she explained, settling back in her corner of the huge leather sofa, crossing her legs under her. "She had needed some extra tutoring in field potions that summer and he had run a session for her in his classroom at the school. I tagged along every afternoon for three weeks. While she was studying, he and I would have discussions on the various chemical properties of potions. I was in my undergraduate program at that time." She took a sip from her own cup, savouring the hot brew. "Anyways, we kept up a correspondence through the years and I would send him various clippings of new plants and biologicals that I'd run across and we would compare various chemical reactions we noted," she continued. Hermione had leaned forward, fascinated in this insight into her teacher's private life.

"It didn't stop after the battle, although there was a slight break of a number of weeks before we took up where we'd left off. He had offered his condolences on my losses and his regret that he hadn't been able to stop more than he did. I thought everyone knew he was still alive." She shrugged. "Guess I was wrong. I wonder why he didn't tell anyone else... I thought maybe George might know he's alive, but maybe not considering his reaction tonight. The twins were pretty close to him in school, you know." Hermione shook her head. She hadn't known – but it did make sense if she thought back; Snape always seemed to turn a blind eye to their antics. But Abby saw the confusion and explained that as well. "He let them experiment on the side – as long as they always came up with antidotes at the same time. He would tell me of their experiments in his letters. He was really upset when his shot missed and took George's ear. He certainly wasn't aiming for him."

Hermione nodded. This she knew from Harry. "Ummm, well... everyone thought, at the time, that he was still a Death Eater – indeed, it wasn't until Harry saw his pensieved memories that we knew he'd been working on Dumbledore's orders all along. It was a bit embarrassing, actually." Hermione squirmed, trying to find a comfortable position while her baby chose that moment to play Quidditch with her bladder.

"Why? It was what you were _supposed_ to believe. He hated having to make you all think that – but he had to do it that way. Harry _had_ to believe that Snape was loyal to Voldemort to keep _Snape_ safe. He explained it all to me. It was in case Voldemort accessed Harry's mind again – Harry had to be absolutely convinced Severus was loyal to the Dark Lord."

Hermione peered over at the dark girl for a moment, seeing something in the other's face that gave her pause. "You were in contact with Tonks and Snape at the same time weren't you? They were both talking to you..." she gave her a pitying look. "How could you handle your cousin's letters knowing that Snape was innocent?"

Abby sat quietly for a few minutes thinking of her answer. How had she felt at the time? Caught? Frustrated? She finally looked up at Hermione. "It was hard... I couldn't tell Dora what I knew. She knew that Severus and I corresponded before the war – so, if she thought about it, she would've realised I probably still was talking to him – or maybe she didn't ..." She paused thinking it over some more. "I don't really know as she never asked me if we were still in touch. Maybe she didn't want to know?" she pondered. "Who knows? Severus knew I was close to Dora and that we were always in contact – but he never asked me explicitly not to tell her anything – he just told me his reasons for what had happened and why it must be kept a secret for now – leaving it up to me. I knew it was safer for him if the charade was kept up."

She gazed up again at the other woman. "Did Harry tell you what was in those memories?"

"Yes. Did Professor Snape tell you?" she asked back, curious. How close were these two seeming dissimilar people?

Abby nodded. "As much as he respected Dumbledore, the most scathing letter I ever got from him was the day Dumbledore told him that Harry had to die. He felt so – powerless – that day. He was about ready to kill Dumbledore right then for putting him in that position and discounting his promise to Lily Potter that much... He felt as if he'd been taken advantage of all that time, been forced to make Harry hate him... All for nothing. I think he went on for about fifteen pages that day. I'll have to show Harry some time."

"Did he... did he know about Harry's relatives?"

"Oh yes, he knew – and could do nothing about it. Dumbledore insisted and, at the time, Snape believed him. I think the veneer started cracking when Harry walked through the doors and then everything he knew about Petunia was verified during those horrendous Occlumency lessons. God, how he hated those!"

"So did Harry," Hermione pointed out. "Was Snape deliberately sabotaging his teaching? We always wondered – or did he tell you?"

Abby drew her knees up to her chin, contemplating her answer. "Snape had to learn by expediency, you understand." She looked up to see if Hermione absorbed the importance of her words and was gratified to see her eyes concentrating on Abby. "And he was a natural at it. He was always of the mind 'If I can do it, why can't you?' and he just could not understand why Harry wouldn't apply himself. He taught it the same way he had to learn it – via brute force. On hindsight, not the best idea." Both women chuckled at the dry humour. "He eventually realised this – but by then it was too late." She shrugged as if to indicate 'what can you do?'

Hermione nodded, although she still looked guilty. "Where has he been all this time?" she asked timidly.

"Well, he was originally back in his house that he inherited from his parents, but he said it held too many bad memories so he sold it back in two thousand and moved to this little village near Sherwood forest. He says there are still some enchanted areas in there that the Muggles don't know about that have some fantastic plant life and magical creatures still living there."

"I've read about that in _Magical Places of Great Britain_," Hermione nodded knowingly. "Do you think he'd like to come over?" Then she shook her head, as if in answer to her own question. "If he'd wanted to see any of us again, he would've contacted us by now. It's been eight years." She rubbed a soothing hand over her belly as the baby managed to get a case of hiccups. Abby watched, fascinated, as Hermione's tunic front bounced with each burp.

"Do you want me to check and see? It's not that late," she said, noting the time on her wristwatch. Alice's arms were pointing at nine o'clock. "I have his Floo address, I can call him," Abby offered. "Besides, I thought he would be here, I brought some cuttings in my backpack for him. I really need to get these to him before they go bad." And she had. In her professional role she was allowed to transport botanicals under sealed containers, which she had done with a minimum of fuss.

Not waiting for an answer, as Hermione looked indecisive, she unfolded her legs, bouncing up to walk over to the fireplace and grabbed a pinch of powder before the expectant mother could decide whether this was a good idea or not. Throwing the pinch into the flames and freezing them into green, tickling warmth, she whispered her destination and stuck her head into the flames.

"Severus, hey, Severus!" Abby called out into the empty room of the cottage. While waiting for a response, she quickly took in the comfortable, shabby chic professorial furnishings of the sitting room – from the worn leather club chairs sitting on either side of an old comfortable sofa, to the dark floral pattern of the area rug; weather-beaten but warm toned wood planks comprised the flooring and various framed awards and clippings were proudly displayed on the wall. From the few she could see, most of the clippings were about his students and colleagues gaining recognition. A proud teacher; something very few would have expected of him.

Quick staccato steps heralded the presence of the room's owner as he flowed around a hidden corner into view, settling down into one of the chairs to converse with her better. Abby did not hide her enthusiasm in seeing him, excitement almost visibly pouring from her.

"Miss Sciuto! So you arrived safely, I presume. I didn't expect to hear from you so soon. I assumed you would send an owl in the morning."

"And I expected everyone else would know you were alive!" she immediately accused with a scornful look to the greying ex-headmaster. "Imagine the look on everyone's face when I announced I was corresponding with you!" If he could see her hands, he imagined they would be fisted onto her hips in an attitude of peevishness with him. He settled back into the chair with a sigh, running a hand over his face. Eight years he'd managed to stay in hiding and in one fell swoop from his quirky friend, he was apparently 'outed' to society at large. This was his own fault, he realised, and he couldn't get upset with Abby. He had known that his anonymity wouldn't stay secret forever – he'd been lucky he'd had eight years of it!

A delighted smirk eventually graced his face as he straightened up in his seat. "Well, I knew it was just a matter of time; the cat would eventually be let out of the bag." He let his fingers stroke a small goatee before they worried at an old scar that still itched on occasion on the side of his neck. "I suppose I should be grateful that I've managed to keep my existence a semi-secret this long." He sighed. "So, why call now?"

"Well, with all the excitement, I thought you would be at the party as well and brought the cuttings with me. Thought you might want to come over and pick them up."

He grimaced slightly but nodded his head. He really wanted to study the plants and fungi that Abby had found; he'd been looking forward to these acquisitions for weeks. He supposed he could put up with the inevitable crowd of people that would be at this gathering. He'd been a hermit long enough.

"Very well; where are you located?" he acquiesced.

She grinned in delight. "Number twelve, Grimmauld Place." He winced. Of course it would have to be there. He hadn't been there in over nine years. The last time he'd had his tongue tied by Moody's spectre of Albus and had managed to locate one final picture of Lily taken just a few weeks before she'd passed away. Well it was time to face old ghosts, he presumed.

"Out of my way then, I'll be there directly. And if Kreacher has managed to keep his head from being mounted, I want some elf-wine to wash away the soot!" he insisted.

"Aye-aye, Snape!" she cried, saluting him before pulling back into the flames. He called his travelling robes to him and shrugged them on; made sure his wand was tucked away in his wrist holster then grabbed a handful of powder to travel to Potter's house.

**Saturday, September 16****th****, 2006, Hogwarts**

Lieutenant Brian Boswell took a turn in the centre of his tiny sitting room to take in the shabby, but comfortable appointments of the guest room the Headmistress of the school had shown him. It hadn't taken him long to pack his duffel for a week's stay at the castle and he had found himself locking up his Diagon Alley flat and Apparating to Hogsmeade before tea time.

The day's second walk up to the school was cooler than the first, the sun hugging the horizon in a blaze of autumn glory. He noticed this time around the subtle turning of the leaves; reds and golds kissing the tops of the trees while the greens were just beginning to fade out further down. Some leaves had already lost their hold and were littering the roadway that meandered along the forest edge up to the school gates. They crackled pleasantly underfoot and Brian was transported back to his own school days in New England. A grin plastered itself on his face and his step was lighter as he had continued on his journey.

Professor McGonagall had accepted the note from Auror Potter without any questions and had led him up the main staircase, which had conveniently moved to align itself in front of the corridor they needed on the second floor. McGonagall had smiled kindly at him when he'd gasped and grabbed frantically at the handrail so as not to fall down the swinging staircase. This morning they hadn't moved!

She had led him to a bored portrait of a lady knitting who controlled the locking mechanism for the door to his guest quarters.

"Your password for Madam Lyndsey-Smythe is 'Violet'," the headmistress informed him. He dutifully announced the password and, without dropping a stitch, a click was heard and the door swung inward to reveal the tiny sitting room he was standing in now.

There was enough space for two stuffed chairs in front of the small fireplace that was already alight and spreading needed warmth through the room. A short table sat between them with an oil lamp casting its light in a gentle pool over the area. A triple paned window of leaded glass half-way up the opposite wall from the door had one side cranked open to let in the gentle late afternoon breeze, showcasing a gorgeous autumnal sunset. A roll top secretary was positioned under it to take full advantage of the light that came in; another unlit lamp perched to the side for the later evening hours. A full floor–to-ceiling bookcase took up the rest of that short outside wall and he wandered over to run a finger along the spines – finding it full of history books that related to the founders and the school.

He quirked an eyebrow back over to his hostess who cleared her throat.

"Auror Potter may have Flooed me prior to your arrival..." she prevaricated. "You also have full access to the restricted section of the library." He grinned before walking over to the open door in the fourth wall across from the fireplace. This revealed a sleeping room, complete with a curtained bed, piled deep in warm bedding, a bedside table and reading chair, an ancient wooden wardrobe and another door that led to a small, but fully functional, loo. Pulling his rucksack out of his pocket, he activated the charm and it expanded to its full size which he tossed onto the bed.

"I can have a House-elf sent up with some dinner or you are more than welcome to join us; dinner will begin in a half-hour," she offered.

"I'd love to meet the staff," he said. "I'll be down in a little bit – need to wash off the dust and put things away. Thank you!"

"Good. I'll have the elves add a place at Head Table." She turned to leave, but turned back when a thought hit her. "I am sorry about this morning – hopefully you'll be able to track down the Baron this week."

"Actually the talk with Helena left me with even more questions; which is why we thought a week stay might be beneficial in gaining their confidence."

"Good luck with that," she stated acerbically. "I've never known the ghosts – other than the Friar and Nick - to be forthcoming about anything!"

"I'm sure I can use all the luck I can get. I'll see you soon, Professor," he said as he escorted her to the door and watched her walk briskly away down the corridor. He closed the door and headed back into the bedroom to unpack and throw some water on his face.

**Saturday, September 16****th****, 2006 - Grimmauld Place, London**

Snape spun to a stop in a large grate that opened onto a room full of comfortable Victorian charm; much cleaner and brighter than the last time he'd seen it. He blinked quickly to clear his eyes of the past overlaying the present with visions of Albus and other order members meeting in this very room, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin sneering at him from their favourite corner, Molly Weasley plying him with food every time he walked through the door, Mad-Eye constantly looking at him as if he was a time-bomb that was just waiting to explode. Abby had her hands clasped together in delight, bouncing on her heels, before she couldn't hold it in any longer and had to give him a quick hug and kiss on the cheek, dispelling the ghosts of his past. He was truly glad to see her, one of the few people he'd been able to be semi-truthful with during those long years. He allowed her familiarity with grace then pulled back, touching the back of her hand once in thanks, noting the other occupant in the room.

"Miss Gr... pardon me, Mrs Weasley," he inclined his head in her direction, remembering he had read their wedding announcement a few years before. The only surprise had been how long it had taken the couple to finally tie the knot. "Please, don't get up on my account." He waved her back, noticing her gravid condition. "Where is everyone?" he asked, looking around at the huge empty parlour. "I thought you said there was a gathering this evening." He followed Abby over to the seating arrangement after handing her his outer robes, which she hung on a stand near the Floo, and sat down on the opposite end of the sofa from Hermione, gratefully accepting the sherry glass of elf-wine that Abby handed to him before she assumed her perch on the floor, leaning up against the front of the sofa.

"They are all at St Mungo's; Ginny is in labour with their second child," Hermione announced.

"Thank Merlin I'm no longer teaching!" he mumbled, bringing a tolerant grin to both women's faces. "So how many of this next generation of the most fecund family in the wizarding world are there?"

"Counting tonight? Eight, I believe. Number nine will be here in a month," she said, rubbing her stomach with a deep sigh. "Seven of them are upstairs asleep," she said with a twitch of her lips when he shot a concerned eye-roll to the ceiling. "Don't worry – they should stay that way." He visibly relaxed and Abby giggled.

"Don't like babies, much, Severus?" she teased, twisting her head to look up at him.

He gave her a look that translated quite readily into 'What do you think?' "I hate to ask, Mrs Weasley..."

"Hermione, please," she insisted.

"Hermione. How many are yours?"

"Just number nine here. The rest belong to Bill and Percy, Teddy Lupin is here – he's considered one of the family – and Harry's oldest, James."

"Of course there would be another James Potter. Perhaps I should disappear for twenty more years," he threatened, only partially in jest.

"Don't you dare!" Abby cried. She dug in her backpack and pulled out a large wrapped box with inspection stickers all over it, waggling it under her friend's nose. "If you do that, I won't give you your cuttings!" she threatened. "I've already run chemical analyses on all of them, they are included in there. Major Mass Spect had a great time chewing on those and then I made a new friend a few weeks ago who has a nano-spectrometer that got me even more interesting results. Marty is a great guy – and he has a lab I would die for... He's been giving me botany lessons on the side; it helps so much in the forensic field," she said wistfully. "But, I shouldn't put down Mass Spect – he does a great job. I just hope he's still in working order when I get back."

"You're not letting DiNozzo near your equipment, are you?" Snape asked, alarmed, but eyeing the box with an acquisitive look. Over the years he had heard about her co-workers and knew a fair bit about them.

"No, I've learned my lesson. Only Tim and Jimmy are allowed in." She turned to Hermione. "Tim has a degree in Biomedical Engineering and Jimmy is a Doctor and is our Assistant Medical Examiner – I trust both of them in the lab. However; the last time Tim had to work together with _Tony_ in the lab, it was a disaster. They didn't follow the instructions! I had them all written out, too," she grumped.

Hermione peeked over at her old teacher with an amused glance and discovered he had the same exasperated look he'd always worn in the classroom when students weren't following the directions he'd written out. "I can see why you two became friends," she pointed out, chuckling.

He snorted in response, finally reaching down and swiping the box away from a laughing Abigail. "Fine, I won't disappear again. You would have made a fine Slytherin, Sciuto," he complimented her while tucking the box protectively against his side.

"So you've always told me, Snape," she parried back. "But I think I would have been a better Hufflepuff – maybe even a Ravenclaw. Dora was a Puff, and we were like twins..." she broke off quickly, giving a weak smile at the other two before taking a sip from her cup of tea to hide her sudden tears. Snape let his hand drop down on her head for a moment before placing it back in his lap.

"So, professor, what have you been doing since you disappeared?" Hermione asked, a tad acerbically, to draw focus from the quietly upset American. "I like the Vandyke," she added as a quick aside, sweeping her eyes over his whole new look. She thought he was looking much healthier these days, away from the Dungeons. His skin had lost that sallow, yellow tinge it had always sported and his hair, clean and shiny, was even longer than before, but swept back into a traditional wizards queue at the back, the tail held together with a Muggle fabric coated elastic band. Instead of his teaching robes, he now wore a casual jacket over an equally casual button-down shirt paired with black jeans. "Still staying with the black theme, I see," she joked, indicating the black jacket and jeans.

"It suits." He stroked the whiskers before impaling her with a black look. "Don't blame me if you three didn't think to check and see if I was truly dead. I had been around Nagini long enough to prepare antivenin and to take it proactively. Who do you think it was who helped Arthur Weasley when he was bitten by her in your fifth-year?" he asked caustically, raising an eyebrow in her direction. She blushed gracefully. "In any case, it did allow me to effectively 'disappear' and start over. I packed up my house, sold it and with the proceeds, and what I'd saved over the years, bought a cottage and began a potions catalogue business. I do a lot of consulting work for various interests. It keeps me busy and I don't have to ever deal with students again." He sipped some more at the wine in satisfaction, it truly was a good vintage.

"I should have checked to see if your portrait ever began talking," she berated herself.

"My _portrait?_" Years of practice kept him from spitting the mouthful of wine out in surprise. "Surely you jest – I think I managed to surpass Phineas Nigellus as the most hated Headmaster Hogwarts has ever had! And I left voluntarily before the term ended – there is no reason there should be a portrait of me in that office."

But Hermione shook her head. "Harry explained everything afterwards – in fact he taunted Voldemort with it." She ignored his wince at her use of Voldemort's self-proclaimed name. "Of course he had to explain it all again to a closed session of the Wizengamot and the school Governors – once they were recalled. After that it was easy to have a portrait made to honour you – but I don't think he has ever gone to see it. I know I never have – sorry, but there's been no reason to return to the Head's office," she said apologetically. He waved it off as of no consequence. "In any case, nearly everyone realises the predicament you were in – trying to do the best with the job as you could. I know he was grateful that you didn't turn Ginny and Neville over to the Carrows." She reached over to place a hand on his knee, but just as quickly removed it when he eyed it as if it was a slug.

Abby was watching the conversation like a tennis match from her seat on the floor, letting the tea in her cup grow cold. A whoosh from the Floo warned them of someone coming back and they all turned expectantly toward the fireplace, which was glowing green with the rush of Floo powder.

A tousled head of black hair, with just a touch of grey at the temples, heralded Harry's arrival. "It's a b... Professor! Good lord, Abby was right!" He pushed himself through the flames, stumbling out on the hearth-rug and rushed over to take his former professor's hand.

"Sir, I'm so glad to see you alive! I had gone back to the shack and you were gone. I thought that Malfoy or someone like him had made away with your body." The words tumbled out of his mouth quickly, breathless in his surprise to see the man alive and sitting in his parlour. He pumped the hand several times before Severus was able to extricate it none too politely.

"Potter, you're babbling." Harry flushed bright red in embarrassment. "So you have another son?" Snape prompted as the women stood to congratulate Harry with hugs while Snape stayed seated.

Harry nodded his head enthusiastically. "Looks just like my baby pictures, the few I've got. All black hair and green eyes..."

"Lily's eyes..." Severus murmured into his drink. Harry tentatively laid a hand on the other man's shoulders but quickly removed it when he felt his old professor flinch at the touch. Hermione and Abby stepped away to give the two some privacy as Harry took a seat across from his own private dark angel. He cleared his throat before beginning.

"I - I wanted to thank you and never got a chance – for protecting me all those years – doing it for her. When I found out..." he paused for a moment to gather his thoughts, emotions he had thought long buried rising to the surface again. Seeing Snape brought a rush of memories of that dark time back to the fore and he swallowed hard as they nearly overwhelmed him.

"I looked like a pathetic fool," Snape filled in, looking down at the floor. There was no way he would look into those eyes. The last time he had, he'd been at death's door. He did not wish to be reminded of that again. Yet with Potter sitting so near, the past came flooding back and he had to raise his Occlumency shields to keep that vision from swimming in his sight again. He needed to stay with the here and now; he concentrated on the man seated next to him.

Harry was shaking his head emphatically. "No, sir, you didn't. I understood, finally. Everything made sense for once – it was like the final puzzle piece. In fact I'm glad you're here – I can tell you directly; Ginny and I have already named him: Albus Severus – after the two most important men in the last war, and in my life; the two who made it possible for me to be here, celebrating the birth of my second child."

"I would've thought you'd name him after your flea-bitten dog-father!" Severus said sarcastically – but Harry knew it was to cover up the emotions he couldn't quite hide in his eyes that had been close to spilling over a moment ago.

Harry grinned rakishly. "What do you think James' middle name is?" he quipped. That effectively caused Snape to sniff in astonishment, but it allowed him to recover his equilibrium.

"That child is doomed from the start! Again, all I can say is thank Merlin I'm not teaching any longer."

Harry laughed outright which actually caused Snape's eyes to crinkle in pleasure, the sound surprisingly not unpleasant to his ears. The man's laugh was nothing like his father's sarcastic braying and more like his mother's hearty laughter than he would ever know. It helped Snape to further separate the two in his mind forever. Harry Potter was not his father, and never would be. He could recognise that now. "I have to get back. They were cleaning Ginny and the baby, so I just popped over to tell the ladies. I'm going to run and get James – I promised him he could see his new brother as soon as it was possible." He stood, turned and Apparated out of the room, and they heard a distant pop upstairs. He was soon carrying a sleepy toddler back into the sitting room who blinked wearily at the three adults in the room from around the thumb in his mouth, fingers curled around the tip of his nose. Dragons chased each other around his footie pyjamas, and he was holding on with a death grip to a favourite blanket and his father's collar.

He recognised the two women, but his gaze rested on the long-haired, severe looking man. "Daddy, who dat?" he asked, never removing the thumb.

"That's an old professor of mine, James. That's professor Snape. Can you say 'hullo'?"

James looked a bit longer before wriggling his fingers at the man then buried his head back onto Harry's shoulder. "I wan' mummy..." he mumbled. Harry smiled gently down at the boy in his arms, caressing the little head. Snape noticed Abby's cocked head and look of adoration as she watched the family, a little smile unconsciously gracing her face.

"That's where we're going, scamp, to go see mummy and baby Albus. Wave bye-bye," he prompted the child who half-heartedly waved at the group. Hermione came over and gave her nephew a kiss on the forehead, before doing the same to his father.

"That's for Ginny. Off you go!" she said, guiding the pair over to the Floo. "Don't worry about us, we're all adults here."

Abby looked askance. "Speak for yourself! I'll never grow-up! Just like the lost boys!" she declared. Hermione just rolled her eyes before holding the Floo Jar out to Harry who gratefully grabbed some. He turned to look at his Potions professor. "I'm truly glad you're alive, sir. You'll be very surprised at the reaction this will cause. And please, feel free to visit anytime, now that we know you're alive. And, since he bears your name, I expect to see you for his naming ceremony next weekend!" he insisted.

"We shall see, Potter," Severus said, not promising anything.

Harry grinned, safe in the knowledge that Severus Snape would be there, despite his non-committal stance – if only to meet the child saddled with his name, and threw down the powder, stating his destination clearly, the green flames whisking the two male Potters away.

"Well, I should be going as well," Severus declared, rising from his place on the sofa. "It is getting a bit late. Abigail, I'll let you know about the cuttings early next week – you'll still be here? Excellent." He took Hermione's hand and bent over it in an old-fashioned manner. "Mrs Weasley – Hermione – it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance again. When is the Naming Ceremony?" he enquired.

"Next Saturday at ten with a luncheon following. It will be at the Burrow – more room outside, you know. Be prepared: Molly and Andromeda will fuss all over you," she warned.

He sighed as if it would be a great sacrifice, but the women both knew it was for show. He gathered his box to his side, allowed Abby to help him on with his robes and gave her a quick buss on the cheek. With a nod to the women, he quickly left via the Floo network.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: This is one of those chapters where I'm glad I have a muse that I can bounce ideas off of. This one is much better for Les' input and response to my cry of "HELP". So, if you like it - thank him by going to read his stories.**

**Wednesday, September 20****th****, 2006 – Diagon Alley, London**

"So, Ol' Snape is alive," George pondered as he walked Abby around his store. His five assistants were busy helping customers – although the amount of clientele was comparatively light due to it being a weekday and school was in session.

"Always has been, George," she pointed out, her eyes wide as she stared delightedly at all the products in the store.

He grinned as he realised his old mentor was back on the radar screen and rubbed his hands together in delight. "This is perfect! I've got so many projects I've put on the backburner because they all needed something... and subconsciously, that something was his input!" he chortled.

Abby smiled as she toured around the store, picking up and studying various joke items, and then wandered into the spy area. George noticed her interest and hurried to begin his patter.

"We started that line during the war years – objects that could help Aurors and the like. We consult with Harry and Ron quite regularly. They are always coming up with new items that would be useful in the field – or see something in the Muggle world that could be revised for magicals. For instance; Muggles can identify someone with their fingerprints, right? You do it every day?"

"Yes, I have a number of databases I can run those through," she agreed, looking at their line of invisibility clothing.

"Well, Magicals can hide those – or use Polyjuice to fake someone else's. What they can't hide is their magical signature. Even the smallest use of magical energy leaves behind a trace of itself, keyed to the individual – that can't be changed by Polyjuice. After the war, we came up with a way to detect that energy, and it is as individual as fingerprints – more so for us! Now, instead of tracing wands – which can be lost, broken, burned up or change allegiances - we trace magical energy – and everyone has been loaded into the database; now, babies are loaded as soon as they are born – that was one of the first things that was registered about little Albus: his name and his magical signature. Lee Jordan, Dean Thomas and several others decided to take some time off and went to Muggle University to study computers and electronics; forming a company afterwards that specialises in building things that are resistant to magical energy. They do computer programming on the side. They came up with a census program that keeps track of the energy patterns."

Despite herself, she perked up at the information. "So if you have something go wrong, you read the magical signature..."

"Enter it into the database and Voila! We know exactly who perpetrated the deed."

"Ingenious," she commented. "And very Big Brotherish..." she added, frowning.

"We like to think so," he preened, not realising her comment was not a compliment. "Come on, it's a beautiful day – who wants to be cooped up in a dusty shop – even if it is as fabulous as mine – when we could be enjoying the world's best ice-cream!" he beamed down at her.

"I thought no one ever found Fortescue?" she asked, puzzled. Tonks had written to her when Florean Fortescue had gone missing early in the Second War, and his shop boarded up. The girls had many fond teenage memories of the shop – and it was a blow to know he'd probably never return.

"Oh, they didn't. What they did find was a cousin – who understood their grandfather's recipes and reopened the store the next year. And the man is a genius when it comes to frozen culinary confections," he praised. "Even better than Florean, if I do say so myself!" He removed his store smock and handed it to a nearby assistant, escorting Abby through the door and down the busy alley towards the little square behind the Leaky Cauldron.

She loved Diagon Alley; always looking forward to trips there as a child. The way the buildings seemed to have been there forever, exuding a history never known in the States. The way Gringotts canted and towered over all, its white facade gleaming over the entire area. Where there used to be a fountain in the centre of the little plaza, there now stood a stark marker – a war memorial to those alley inhabitants who had perished under Voldemort's short time in power. Not all the stores were the same – many had changed hands and stock since the last time she'd been there prior to the war heating up. Some were the same: Flourish and Blotts, Eeylops, the Apothocary shop.

Anchoring one corner of the square was a cheerful establishment, with an outdoor seating area: Fortescue's Ice Cream Shoppe. Fabius Fortescue was a jolly soul, a bald Santa was all that Abby could think when she was introduced, and she told him so, making him laugh a rich deep laughter that boomed off of the bright shiny surfaces in the store, making everyone smile.

"I like this one, Weasley! Don't let her get away!" he chortled, clapping George on the shoulder with his large, beefy hand and turning back to head behind the counter.

"Oh, no," Abby protested. "We're not..." But her protests fell on deaf ears as Fabius hummed to himself as he dished up a humungous confection with two spoons that he brought over to them in their booth.

"On the house!" he declared before walking away.

"Don't argue, Abbs," George warned, digging into his side with relish.

"I won't. He's very sweet, though. Hmmm, this is divine!" she said after taking a bite. The rest of the half hour was spent quietly as they dived in to the boat of ice cream.

"That was wonderful!" Abby declared, wiping her mouth and tossing the paper napkin into the empty silver boat.

"Best there is," George agreed. "So where else are you shopping today?"

"Well I need to get a naming day present for Albus Severus, and then I wanted to pick up some new music if WRock Palace is still in business?" He nodded that it was and she grinned. "And then I wanted to pick up some basic souvenirs for the gang back at the office... Oh, and Ducky wanted me to pick up some specific shortbread biscuits for him; you know, he always wants that little touch of home." Dr Mallard was one of the few men in her life that she truly looked up to and admired, a true gentleman in her book. "Then I wanted to go to the bookstore and pick up some books on magical plants and their properties. I've been getting really interested lately."

"Well, the baby store and the book store are down the street over there, and then the record store is at the entrance to Knockturn Alley."

"They moved, huh?" she asked, getting up to leave.

"After the war," came the short reply. She smiled at Fabius and waved goodbye to him as they left the building and headed toward the bookstore. She wanted to get the two easy purchases out of the way first before browsing through the new music. She dropped George off back at the Joke shop, and crossed the street to Flourish and Blotts. There she discovered some of the basic school books for Herbology, then some more recent editions written by Neville Longbottom which went into greater depth and detail – University level type material. She bought the lot and arranged to have them sent to her aunt's house then headed over to the baby store.

She had originally thought to just run in and out, but she was captivated by the offerings and found herself torn between what to get the newest Potter. She ended up buying the latest in diaper bags that had loads of expandable charms on the pockets, lightening charms all over the bag itself, and then loaded it up with every conceivable thing that Ginny would ever need. She had a ball. This she had gift wrapped and ensured delivery to the party on Saturday.

Happy with her shopping so far, she almost skipped down the street to her guilty pleasure – the independent music store known as the WRock Palace. Here she spent the rest of her afternoon sampling and stacking up a pile of CDs of obscure bands. Her only regret was that Dora couldn't be by her side listening in as well, especially when she discovered that the Weird Sisters would be playing a concert in the back beer patio the night before she would be heading back to DC – but she felt as if her cousin's spirit was there, enjoying the new music she was discovering and giving her a thumbs-up.

**Friday, September 22****nd****, Hogwarts Castle - Scotland**

Brian walked through the hallowed halls of the venerable old school, always searching out the Bloody Baron's ghostly presence, hoping against all hope they would cross paths. The Spirit was avoiding him – or would play tricks on him, hovering just ahead and when he ran to the intersection the wraith would be gone again, his laughter ringing off the stone walls - and he truly wanted to finish his investigation. Meanwhile, he had ensconced himself in the Restricted Section of the library, searching through massive old dusty tomes for more information on the Founders and their immediate families. Helena had answered some more questions about her brother and Grystin's siblings – pointing out several obscure genealogy books covered in dust in the back reaches of the restricted section. She had also been correct about the size of those books and how heavy just one of them was.

Books from that era were commonly hand written – long before movable type or wood block printing was reliably used – on thick vellum between covers that were made from wood covered in leather, sometimes the leather was tooled and stamped in gold or silver. These were not books that you easily carried around. He began to understand Rowena Ravenclaw's reasoning to hardwire that knowledge into a crystal. An early computer chip, so to say. But apparently she had been the only one to figure out A) how to do it and B) how to access it. He'd run across several old legends about the diadem, mostly stating that inscribed on the inside were the words "Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure" and that anyone, if they put the diadem on their head, could access the knowledge inside. Pity that it wasn't so.

Why none of the information had made it into the modern history books, he could only speculate – but he was astonished at the amount of information readily available when a translation charm was applied to the archaic languages the registers were written in. Of course he could not apply the charms directly, he had to first copy the text onto modern parchment using a replication charm then the translation charm was applied to that paper. His rooms were filling up with reams of hitherto unknown information. When he was done, he felt sure he'd be able to write his own massive tome on the time period so that it could promptly be stored back into obscurity.

The four had not started off as friends; that had happened by happy circumstance. The two couples had started life as normal Wizards and Witches of well-to-do families, albeit quite brilliant and powerful scions of those families. Rowena Ravenclaw had been the eldest of three daughters belonging to a widower merchant. The girls had been raised indulgently and had never wanted for anything. He thought nothing of educating them as far as they wanted to learn and Rowena, discovering an early love of knowledge, ate up any tutoring he could obtain for her. When her two younger siblings had garnered good marriages, she had obtained her father's blessing to travel the continent, always seeking out bright and brilliant Wizards and Witches that she could learn from.

Her travels eventually took her to Spain where she had heard rumours of a young man who could speak to snakes and who was experimenting with potions. Seeking him out, she had discovered him ensconced in a castle as the resident Potions master and had offered her assistance in exchange for learning from him. Both being young and vibrant, things evolved quickly and they were married by the year's end, forming one of the most famous partnerships in Wizarding history. Things of course had not been that easy; there had been another rival for her hand, but Salazar had won out in the end. Promising him even more interesting ingredients back in her Welsh homeland, he allowed her to take him back to Wales to settle on her father's lands, eventually taking over the running of the estate when the old man passed on.

Godric Gryffindor came from a neighbouring valley to the Ravenclaw's, and both families knew of each other – Wizarding families being few in number even back then. Godric had trained as a knight errant and had travelled all over the continent, sometimes as a sword for hire, sometimes competing in the newer sport of tournaments, winning quite a following and gaining a reputation for fair fighting. His blazing head of red hair on top of his tall and broad body was a well-known sight at the competitions and he was a favourite of all the ladies; until one day his heart was captured by the flaxen haired Germanic beauty, Helga Hufflepuff.

Luck would have it that his father passed on quite suddenly and he was called home to take over the reins of the Baronetcy. He brought along his paramour, now wife, to run his home for him. Helga proved to be a genius in the home arts, extremely efficient and kind, and she soon had the little fiefdom running like a well oiled machine.

Unfortunately, tensions were mounting everywhere against Magicals – the church condemning them outright. What started out as isolated incidents, soon spread all over Europe and the British Isles: Witch Burnings. While true Wizards and Witches could escape the flames and drowning, many innocent non-magicals were caught in the furore.

Gryffindor and Slytherin both found themselves giving shelter to refugees behind their sturdy warded walls and knew that they had to do something quickly.

Thus, the Pact had been formed – the Pact that had evolved over the centuries into the Ministry of Magic.

The Pact started out as several old families getting together and deciding to hide the Wizarding World from the non-magicals, hoping that out-of-sight meant out-of-mind. Whole villages would disappear in the middle of the night and certain areas of the countryside were avoided – engendering rumours of haunted spaces. New repelling charms created by Rowena helped tremendously in this aspect.

Then the search began for an area that could be hidden from the Muggles – as non-magicals were soon being labelled as – and where young magical children could study together, learning to gain control over their powers and how to use them properly and productively. A parcel of land was eventually deeded to the Pact that fulfilled all their desires. Hidden in the Scottish Highlands, surrounded by mountains, forests and containing a large fresh-water lake that was fed by both underground streams and melting snow pack, the modest castle fit all their requirements. The new friends travelled to the area and decided that while the surroundings were quite adequate for their needs; however, the smallish castle would be too small to house apprentices and Masters, as well as all the support staff.

The existing structure was dismantled and fresh building materials were obtained and the four began the historic raising of Hogwarts School of Wizardry. Many of the refugees they had taken in came with them, settling in the nearby valley and creating Hogsmeade, the only all-Wizarding village in the British Isles.

The two home estates in Wales still had some inhabitants and when the eldest boys had each grown old enough, they had taken over the running of the estates for their fathers, small villages growing up around the walls. These villages were mostly comprised of Magicals, but there were some Muggles who lived there as well – but who could care less if their neighbours practiced magic or not. If someone tried settling there who wasn't as tolerant, they would find themselves moving away – as if it was their own decision.

Godric and Helga had produced six children, all of whom survived to adulthood – a rarity in those times, Brian discovered. The eldest was Grystin who was bestowed with the Baronetcy upon his majority. His best friend, even though he was ten years older, was Sebastian Slytherin; one of two children of Rowena and Salazar, Helena being the other – late in life – child.

At some point, after Helena had reached her majority, she had left the castle under a veil of secrecy and had returned several years later, in a casket next to Baron Grystin and after a sufficient mourning period was observed, they were interred in the family vaults deep under the school Chapel along with Rowena Ravenclaw, their ghosts haunting forever the halls of that institution and their true names fading into obscurity over the centuries.

Slytherin had left the school to his friends Godric and Helga, devastated by the loss to his family, and was never heard from again. As for the belief that the three had quarrelled over the types of students who were to be admitted to the school before he left, Brian could never determine where that rumour had started as it was not reflected in the archives from that period.

As far as he could tell, all of the Founders were willing to take in whatever child they could find who possessed the gift of Magic – no matter what the parentage – the whole idea being to train these children to tame the wild magic that ran through their veins. Back then, the house divisions were created out of the type of magic the apprentices were studying. Those who excelled in defensive magic studied under Godric, Elemental Wizardry – mostly dealing with earth and water studied under Helga. Rowena took the students who loved to research and create new spells and Salazar trained the future Potion Masters and handled those who had Elemental talents in Fire and Air.

While Merlin was credited with being the first wizard to use a wand in the British Isles, it really did not truly gain favour until Ravenclaw insisted that all the children at the school be outfitted with the new focusing tools. During her travels she had run across Octavius Ollivander, current scion of a family renowned for its ability to fashion wands. He had just finished his apprenticeship under his uncle in Rome and, remembering him, she had sent him a message asking if he would like to expand the business into the cold north where she could promise him nearly exclusive access to clientele. He had packed his bags and tools and headed over immediately, initially setting up shop in the new village of Hogsmeade and eventually moving to London, where the shop still resided to this day.

But that was all the information Brian could find. Nothing elucidating on the characters of the two doomed children; nothing to lead him to where he could find the Baron, wherever the ghost was lurking here in the castle.

That was until he began perusing the student rolls from that time. Grystin was named an apprentice of Slytherin's rather than of Godric's, as he would have thought. This explained why he was the Slytherin ghost.

He had tried looking in the Dungeons for the ghost, but apparently not hard enough. He contacted his boss in the afternoon to let him know he would be a few more days.

"I'm going to head down to the Dungeons. My only reservation is that the place is full of blind alleys and dark corridors that tunnel everywhere down there. I've tried to find some sort of map of the place, but no one seems to be able to help me," he groused over the Floo connection. "There is not a single Architects drawing from that time period."

Harry had laughed in remembered confusion over the castle layout that always seemed to be shifting. "You know, I may have something that would help you. Look for an Owl at dinner, but I want the artefact back when you return to work!"

"Of course, sir. Oh, and congratulations on the baby – Albus Severus I believe? If what I heard the Headmistress gushing about was correct?" He grinned at the suddenly proud papa.

"Yes, I saddled the boy with those two names," Harry chuckled. "But I think he will be worthy of them. Oddly enough the man whose name I had given him as his second name turned out to be alive! We had thought him dead these last eight years and he turned up the night Albus was born. It was a bizarre connection; my Godson's grandmother's niece – if you can follow that – had been in contact with him all this time, and she inadvertently let 'the cat out of the bag' as she said. She assumed everyone knew he was still alive, and we assumed he'd been dead all this time. Professor Snape had a huge laugh over that, I can assure you."

"I've heard several tales of his days as a teacher and as Headmaster," Brian commented. Actually, the minute the news had hit the teacher's lounge – where Brian was welcome to recline in the evenings – the stories had poured out of the educator's mouths. Flitwick himself had told a tale on himself how if Snape hadn't stunned him the evening Dumbledore had died, he probably would've been dead as well. There were tales of his bravery and tales of his supposed treachery, and stories abounded of how he had ruled the dungeons with a steel hand for nearly eighteen years, not caring who he flunked or reduced to puddles of tears – as long as they weren't Slytherin.

"Oh, I'm sure you have. He was a snarky old bastard, if there ever was one, but loyal to Dumbledore and to my mother's memory – even if he never liked me that much. I reminded him too much of my father." Harry shook his head ruefully. "He appears to have mellowed out somewhat – perhaps being away from the school for eight years. In any case, let me go dig this thing up and I'll send it off. It should help you a lot in your search. I'll include instructions on how to use it, but they will be coded. When you receive everything, tap the instructions with your wand and the password is 'Marauder'."

"Thank you, sir!"

So now Brian was wandering the halls, pretty sure he was heading in the right direction to the Great Hall and dinner. He enjoyed mealtimes at Hogwarts - it brought back such fond memories of his own boarding school days. His seat was next to petite Professor Flitwick who would regale Brian with stories from his duelling days and little pieces of trivia. Often they would compare notes on various charms and their properties; Flitwick being a great admirer of Brian's mother and her experimental work. Brian could hold his own in these conversations, being just as proficient as his mother in the area of charms, although his forte was defence.

Tonight, the Potions professor, the defence instructor and the Charms professor were holding court at their end of the table, discussing the different merits of their chosen professions over the others. As they were nearest to the Ravenclaw table, the children closest to them were listening wide-eyed as Brian joined in with the heated discussion.

"I rather like to subscribe to the old adage that 'less is more'. Why go all out on blasting curses when a tripping jinx does the job just as well?" Filius Flitwick stated, starting the nightly debate off.

"You would just step aside and let it hit behind you," the Defence professor snorted quietly with a disgusted glare. "Oh, honestly Filius, get real. We spend a lot of time teaching our students wordless magic for a reason, so they don't give away their moves before the hexes, charms and spells hit their intended targets. Using a _Scourgify_ is as school-yardish as sending a Jelly-Legs jinx at an opponent in the middle of a fight to the death."

"Even simple household charms like _Scourgify_ can be used offensively if enough force is put behind them, Tibald," Flitwick insisted provocatively. "Why, how do _you_ defend against a _Scourgify_ that is so powerful it can take the skin off an opponent at ten paces?" he challenged this year's current holder of the Defence chair. Actually, Tibald Tetroos was the third holder of the chair in the eight years since the end of the war – but the faculty did not hold out much hope for his contract to be renewed after next July. It was already painfully obvious he was an ineffectual educator. He may have a good store of knowledge – but he was abysmal in relaying that to the students.

"Or you could launch a few well chosen potions at your opponents' heads. I have some really effective misting poisons that could be rolled over an opponent with a simple airing charm. Of course, there are the two part potions which are extremely effective if you can lay the first parts in ambush sites then launch the second parts at the appropriate points and literally blast your opposition into atoms."

"Oh please," the dour little man countered. "Merlin forbid the wind should suddenly change tact, or you get a hedge wizard whose one true bit of magic is to manipulate the winds, and the poison is rolling back on you. How fast can you effectively shield against that?" But his words barely made a dent as the Charms professor rolled right over him.

"Or even better, use one of your potions to incapacitate your opponent before he even takes the field," Filius goaded, tongue in cheek as the Defence professor began to swell furiously, the Potions master egging him on behind the indignant man's back, much to Brian's amusement. He really enjoyed the by-play he was party to at the head table, which the students never really caught. The teachers were always careful to keep their demeanour very serious so the students never guessed they were ribbing each other unmercifully. The nearby Ravenclaws were watching the discussion as if it were the most absorbing game of tennis – their eyes bouncing back and forth between one teacher and another.

After several long minutes of the other's pontificating, Brian shut all of the old windbags up and drew their fire unintentionally by stating that his profession was the best as it incorporated aspects of all three disciplines, allowing him to exercise his brain and his magic more rigorously than concentrating on only one discipline would do. He could use elements from all three, crossing boundaries freely and being innovative where a mind ensconced on only one avenue would lose track of everything outside of that set boundary. His arguments were persuasive and soon swayed the Defence professor around to his way of thinking although the Potions master was slow to endorse his choice of profession. Filius merely grinned widely and nodded so hard there was some concern that his head might fly off.

Minerva looked on fondly as the Ravenclaw students below began looking thoughtfully at the handsome foreign Auror; and she could tell that more than one student would be changing their career path that evening.

Nearly half-way through the pudding course, an owl back-winged to a stop in front of Brian; officiously holding out his foot.

Master Peatbank, the Potions master, admired the large owl. "Isn't that Auror Potter's owl? I usually see him delivering messages to the Headmistress."

"Yes, this is Magnus. He is just delivering some information for me from work." He smiled disarmingly at the suspicious fellow. "I have several other cases I'm working on, and they don't take a vacation when I'm here researching," he smoothly lied. "If you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I need to take care of this." He stood up, folding his serviette, placing it neatly next to his empty desert plate, the knife and fork correctly crossed across each other on the charger to indicate that he was finished. He looked directly at the owl, palming him a treat. "No reply, Magnus, thank you."

The owl clicked its beak in acknowledgement, pushing off with a huge beat of its wings and soaring back through the opening in the roof presumably heading back to London, its mission completed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Friday, September 22****nd****, 2006 - Sherwood Forest - England**

Severus Snape was intrigued. Abby had brought him several varieties of plant material, native to the United States – but not seen in Great Britain in quite a long time. He had carefully transplanted the cuttings into properly prepared soil in his personal greenhouse, going out every day to check on them and make sure they were taking root.

He loved his little corner of the world. His property edged up on the forest on two sides with open meadow to the front all the way to the main road, which was hidden behind a high cobblestone fence and overgrown hedgerows. His two storey cottage had a quaint thatched roof, a huge walk-in fireplace that had been hooked up to the floo network, a flag-stoned kitchen that would have made Molly Weasley jealous with all the room it had and the appliances he'd had installed, and the room that had sold him on the place – an original still-room, stone encased, built in glass-fronted overhead cupboards, it's own sink and stove, and a large black, soapstone table that was a delight to work on. It had a walk-in cupboard that immediately became his ingredient room – one of the most extensively stocked private collections. A door in an outside wall led to the attached green house that appeared to have been built during the Victorian era with fancy grillwork buttressing the glass roof and walls. At the far end of this treasure house was another egress that led to his gardens where he cultivated rare plants for sale and his own usage.

The analyses that Sciuto had given him promised good things for some of his experiments. If only it hadn't come with the caveat that he was now revealed to the community at large as not being deceased. It had been quite liberating the past eight years to be absent from politics and dunderheads; both Masters being dead and unable to manipulate his life and emotions any longer. He had finally managed some measure of relaxation and – dare he think – positive outlook for his life. Being his own master was frankly _liberating_.

If he wanted to sleep in, he could; if he wanted to lock himself away in his lab for days straight, barely even coming out to eat, he could. If he wanted to get pissed on elf wine and run around the house in his skivvies, he could – without worrying that Minerva would walk in through the door. If he wanted to just take off and Apparate somewhere on a whim, he could do it without any repercussions or the third degree from annoying colleagues and headmasters.

He had grown the Vandyke to disguise himself somewhat, and he had taken to wearing more comfortable clothes; no longer dressing exclusively in his black professorial garb that hid potion stains – and blood – most effectively. He no longer needed to intimidate students with his billowing robes and stern demeanour.

But Abby had let it slip he was alive. He couldn't blame her – he'd never specifically told her that no one knew he _wasn't _alive, and apparently everyone else assumed she had heard the news of his demise in the shack. A comedy of errors all around - bound to fall down around his ears one day, and that day had arrived.

Abby had given several different varieties of each sample – some cuttings for transplanting, and then individual ingredient parts for him to experiment with while waiting for the cuttings to grow and be fruitful.

He wandered into his lab and pulled down a small pewter cauldron, pouring in some neutral base and setting a flame up underneath to gently heat the base. He didn't want this one to boil.

Walking over to his abundant ingredient cupboard, he entered the cavernous, cool room and began to direct jars of ingredients out the open door and to line up on the counter near the cauldron. He went to the drying rack next and plucked up some of the roots she had provided him with, then _accio-_ed his personal potions journal and began to dictate to his Quick Quotes Quill his process. He absently flicked his finger at an old wireless sitting on a back shelf and the strains of Vivaldi's Four Seasons wafted gently around the room as he began chopping, shredding and stirring.

Hours later he was staring at the neat little row of vials with a clear green liquid inside of them while sipping on some tea.

That had been a satisfying afternoon. He glanced over at the clock that hung over the door – oops, correction: that had been a satisfying afternoon, evening and early morning. He glanced out the window over his lab sink; there was the sun just beginning to peek over the eastern horizon.

He grinned to himself before yawning and banishing the cup of tepid tea to the kitchen sink for a later wash-up. That was why he preferred being a bachelor and no longer teaching; he did not need to answer to anyone why he was just going to bed when the sun was coming up.

"Severus! Severus Snape!"

Unless, of course, that someone was Abby Sciuto and it was Saturday morning.

Oh, shite.

Saturday.

Morning.

Potter's naming ceremony. He groaned as he headed into the parlour.

"Sciuto, for Merlin's sake it is five a.m!" he complained.

"Yes, and I know you; you've been up playing with your chemistry set. I wanted to make sure you take a stimulant to stay awake for the ceremony. Don't forget: ten o'clock at the Burrow!"

"And what are you doing up at this hour?" he asked, ignoring her disparaging remark about his lab; this was a long-running joke between them, discounting each other's labs and their effectiveness.

"I'm always up this early!" she said brightly, her pigtails dancing in the firelight and setting off sparks.

"Go away, Abigail – I'll be there," he tossed over his shoulder as he walked away.

"See ya!" Her head disappeared from the flames and he wearily dragged his body to the bedroom, falling down on the bed without bothering to undress, or get under the covers, and belatedly setting an alarm to wake him at nine-thirty before passing out. His last conscious thought was _maybe_ he'd be lucky and die in his sleep so that he wouldn't have to legitimately face Molly.

**Saturday, September 23****rd****, 2006 – The Burrow - England**

Molly Weasley was in her element; all of her children would be there today, and she was cooking up a storm. Arthur had made the mistake of wandering into the kitchen to grab a cup of tea and had nearly had his head shaved by a knife flying through the air to begin cutting carrots on the chopping board.

He beat a hasty retreat and disappeared into his Quonset hut for the rest of the morning, tinkering on various projects, until he heard the children arrive.

He peeked out, grinning as he saw a sea of redheads interspersed with brown, black and golden yellow and deemed it safe to return to civilisation.

Ginny was walking around showing off the lace bedecked bundle in her arms, Harry hovering in the background and accepting back-slaps from his brothers-in-law. Hermione had ensconced herself on the ground with a pile of pillows, under a weeping willow, and was surrounded by toddlers who were happy to play with the toys scattered there in the gentle autumn sunlight.

Abby was watching Teddy, who was flying on a junior Quidditch broom – clearly intrigued and wishing she was magical enough to try out the mode of transportation. The broom's charms did not allow the child to go above eight feet in the air, and Junior matches only had one hoop to guard, and the balls were softer and the snitch slower. But, it was good training for later.

"You'd break your neck," was whispered in her ear and she whirled around, startled, but the surprise was replaced by a grin, her eyes crinkling in joy, as she gave Severus a quick hug.

"Are you awake?" she asked jokingly, keeping a hold on one of his hands.

"Barely," was the terse reply. "However, when I arrived I was nearly choked to death by Molly Weasley. For a woman nearly sixty years old, she still has the strength of a woman half her age!"

"Well you don't seem the worse for wear. Teddy, straighten up there!" she called out as Teddy wobbled in the midst of a sharp turn. "I believe some of your former teaching colleagues are here," she pointed out. Snape obligingly looked over to a group of older people gathered under the willow near Hermione. Sure enough, he spotted Hagrid – who took up a love seat all to himself, and it was showing the strain – McGonagall, Flitwick as well as Pomfrey, who was fussing over the expectant mother.

"You should probably go say hello. I heard them earlier and they were excited about seeing you again. Uh, oh – looks like you've been spotted," she warned. And indeed, Minerva had spotted him, her sharp eyes zeroing in on him like laser beams.

He groaned, but gave in to the inevitable and, after raising Abby's hand to kiss it – delighting in the blush he put on her cheeks, strode over to the little group, bending down to kiss the venerable witch on her cheek after greeting Pomfrey the same way.

"Minerva, you are looking well," he complimented warmly, squeezing her hands once in greeting.

"Severus – if you were still a student, I would dock you so many points..." she said warningly, but couldn't hold her stern face any longer. Instead, he was shocked when she broke down in tears and hastily sat beside her, surprised when she gathered him in for a fierce hug. She eventually accepted his offered handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes.

"How could you..." she started. "I mean, it must've been so hard for you... Why didn't you contact us at all?" she railed, settling her glare on him, reminding him for a moment of when he'd been a student; although it lost a lot of its potency in her concern for him.

"I truly didn't think anyone would want to speak to me again – not after what I had to do," he quietly offered as explanation, eyebrow raised in honest surprise.

"Possibly, before we knew what had been going on – but afterwards? I know it was what we were supposed to think, I understand that; but I hated thinking that you had gone to your death without us acknowledging your own sacrifices, Severus." She patted him on the knee and, from her, he accepted the gesture for what it was – an assurance he was alive and sitting right there in front of her. "And I was so grateful when Harry told us you'd be here today, that you had actually survived. We owe you so much, Severus... and I, for one, would like to say how sorry I am for how I treated you, and to thank you." She reached over to once again embrace him, letting him hide his reddening face behind her massive bun.

He awkwardly patted her on the back, never being one who was comfortable with emotional displays, before releasing her and sat back to catch up with his former colleagues.

Abby watched from the field with Teddy flying above her, glad that the reunion had gone well.

Soon it was noon, and the hour for the blessing and naming ceremony. Ron had helped his wife up as they were standing as Godparents for the new baby and Severus escorted Pomfrey and Minerva over to the gathering. Ginny walked over to him and handed the bundle to her ex-professor. "Sir, if you would join us, please, in the circle?"

Severus looked as if he'd been given a live grenade; but, when the baby didn't protest his handling, he settled the sleeping babe in his arms and stiffly walked over to stand near Potter as Arthur came forward to announce the blessing.

Holding his hand on top of Albus' head he intoned:

"_Blessed be your spirit._

_May you always have health in spirit._

_May you be whole._

_Blessed be your spirit._

_May you always have community._

_May you be prosperous in all ways._

_May you love and be loved._

_May your voice -_

_both your complaints and your special offerings to the world - _

_be truly heard. _

_May you always be surrounded by the warmth of family and community. _

_May you know the innate goodness of your being._

_Blessed Be."_1

The entire group murmured "Blessed Be" in response. Harry and Ginny came up and each laid a hand on the baby.

Ginny spoke up first. "I name thee Albus, in memory of Albus Dumbledore – probably the greatest wizard alive in the last two centuries. May his blessings anoint thee, this day. To watch over you, I name you a godmother: Hermione Granger-Weasley, in case I should be unable to raise you until your majority." Hermione joined her hand on top of Ginny's and a gentle flare of magic engulfed their hands and seemed to sink into Albus' skin. He just sighed in his sleep as Severus held perfectly still, afraid that any movement would wake him.

It was Harry's turn next. "I name thee Severus, in honour of the bravest man I ever knew: Severus Snape..." Severus' eyes snapped up and stared into Harry's green ones that held his without blinking; impressing upon the older man his sincerity. "... Without whom, I and my family would arguably not be here today. May his blessings anoint thee, this day." Harry's hand slipped down to lay on top of one of Snape's. "And to watch over you, I name for you _two_ godfathers: Severus Snape and Ronald Bilius Weasley, in case I should be unable to raise you until your majority." Ron's hand joined the other two and the magic again wrapped around the participants, binding them in their promises amidst the rustles of whispers from the onlookers. Abby had looked around with a glare on her face, daring anyone to naysay her friend's appointment as godfather to his namesake.

The ceremony done, the participants scattered over to the groaning tables that held all the food Molly had spent the week preparing. Harry gently reached for Albus, but found that his son had a firm grip on Snape's finger.

"Leave him be, Potter. If you try to detach him now, he'll awaken. I'll just head back over there for now," Severus said, nodding his head over to the willow seating area where the teachers had once again gathered, this time with loaded plates. "I'm sure the ladies would love to have him within their grasp," he teased.

"If you're sure, sir... I... ah, that was a split second decision, sir. It's just honorary..."

"Potter, stop stammering. If I didn't want to accept it, the magic wouldn't have taken. However, I do intend to have an active part in his education – and James, as well. No godson of mine – or his brother – will enter Hogwarts without a firm grounding in the basics!" he declared.

Harry tried hard to hide his grin, but was unable to keep the amusement out of his voice. "Of course not, sir; I wouldn't want it any other way."

Snape held his gaze for a moment before snorting and turning to walk away. "Get me some tea, Potter," he tossed over his shoulder while casting an awed look at the sleeping child in his arms.

Harry stood still for a moment watching the dark man, arguably one of the scariest men he'd ever known, handle Harry's son as if he was a precious package of gold eggs, transfiguring one of the old chairs into a cushioned rocker and slowly sitting down so as not to wake the boy.

Harry chuckled to himself then went off to get the man his requested tea and a plate of biscuits.

* * *

1 Francesca De Grandis, copyright 1996


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: A good Beta is worth their weight in gold, and I have some of the best. This chapter is indebted to Les Dowich's assistance and his ability to poke and prod me into making something good, that much better. Even to the point of rewriting one of my paragraphs. I'd be interested to see if any of you can pick up what he wrote vs what I wrote. If you can't, then we did it right! Happy Equinox, everyone - Don't forget to howl at the moon! And a special thank you to Blueowl for giving me the cheat on how to break through the problem with right now. If you are having problems posting your own chapters, I will be happy to pass on the fix.**

**Saturday, September 23****rd****, 2006 – Hogwarts Castle - Scotland**

Brian wasn't entirely sure how he'd gotten himself into this mess; but here he was, hip deep in watery muck, pinned against the wall under a fallen piece of masonry, his wand snapped in the fall. At least the water was warm – relatively. It could be worse, he could be unconscious. At least the damned map was safe, tucked into his leather jacket in an inside pocket that he'd long ago spelled to be water proof, well above the water line.

Stupid map.

After dinner, he had gone straight to his rooms where he could open his boss's instructions away from prying eyes. The portrait had kept her knitting needles flying as she'd unlocked his door, not even looking up at him when he gave her the password. One of these days he was going to yell "Boo" at her just to see if she would drop a stitch.

Settling himself into one of the club chairs, he opened the packet which included two pieces of parchment. One was obviously brand new, sharp crease folding it half; the other was a well-worn piece of sheepskin, folded many times, edges worn down, limp with repeated use and old stains spattering across the surface. Intrigued, he set it to the side and opened up Harry's instructions, tapping his wand to the innocent looking receipt from Eeylops Owl Emporium and murmuring "Marauder".

Instantly, the lines rearranged themselves into a note from his boss.

_Brian,_

_The other piece of parchment is a notorious bit of magic whipped up by my father and his friends while they were students at Hogwarts back in the Seventies. Known as "The Marauders", they created a magical artefact that not only shows most of the corridors and rooms in the castle, it also shows where people are; even if they are in Animagus or Polyjuiced forms! Fascinating, eh? This little gem has yet to be duplicated._

_To activate it, touch your wand to the parchment and intone "I solemnly swear I am up to no good." When you are done, you deactivate it by stating "Mischief Managed." I know, sophomoric – but what do you want for a bunch of teen pranksters? For this is what the primary use of the map was – to prank other students._

_Now, I'm sure you noticed I said "Most of the Corridors and Rooms." We discovered one area when we were in school that never showed up on the map and I'm sure there are more. All of the Marauders died before imparting to me their wisdom in creating this wondrous object, so I have no way of updating it. So, be careful when using this down in the dungeons – I'm not sure how much of it they had mapped._

_Good luck and let me know what you find!_

_Harry Potter_

Brian stared at the innocent looking piece of old parchment before touching his wand to the centre and speaking the password. A welcome message from Mssrs Mooney, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs appeared and when he opened up the map further, he watched, mesmerised, as ink filled in with all the levels of the school and tiny nametags appeared all over the school labelling students and teachers alike. What he would have given to have something like this in Salem!

He would love to head out now, but decided to wait until morning instead – deciding to sit back with a well-earned glass of wine and study the comings and goings of the school's residents. It was almost a voyeur's dream! He itched to take it apart and study the charms and potions work that went into it, regretting the loss – at the same time – of the minds that had been silenced too soon that had encased the genius behind its creation.

The next morning was Saturday and he had arisen bright and early to prepare for his prowling. He had gone down to breakfast dressed in his Muggle clothes, leather jacket over his arm – map tucked away in an inside breast pocket, and he had sat down in his customary seat only to find most of the older staff members were already absent from school. He looked at Peatbank for an explanation.

"Auror Potter's son's naming ceremony," came the terse reason. The Potions master was never a good one to talk to prior to his third cup of strong black tea in the morning. Brian had received an invitation earlier in the week, but he had already told Harry he would stay at the school to finish out his investigation instead – sending along a present by owl post. Besides, naming ceremonies were for family and close family friends – of which he truly was neither.

It was also a Hogsmeade weekend – the first of the year – and thus the castle would be relatively empty, except for the two youngest years and their adult supervisors and it was such a nice day out that most of them would be on the grounds. Brian nearly rubbed his hands together in glee; absolute perfect timing.

He had searched the map the previous night, looking for evidence of the ghosts – hoping beyond hope that the dead would show up just like the living did, but it was not to be. The only one that showed up was Peeves, the poltergeist. The researcher in Brian wanted to discover why a creature born of magic could appear as a human but not the aural energy of actually dead humans. He knew this was a tangent better left for another time.

After breakfast was over, Brian headed to an out-of-the way alcove and activated the map watching as the Dungeons emptied out as students above the third year gathered in the main courtyard to turn in their permission slips so that they could go to the Wizarding Village. Professor Peatbank disappeared into his office and the coast was clear for Brian to go exploring.

Following the map, he descended into the nether regions of the school, staying to the main well-travelled corridors at first, questioning portraits along the wall if they had recently seen the Baron float by. Some ignored him completely, eyeing him with suspicion, others led him to corridors that were dead-ends while others seemed to be well-meaning but really had no clue. He had stood for a good ten minutes listening to a whole frame full of be-ruffled and Vandyked gentlemen debating upon the last time they had seen the Bloody Baron and which direction he'd been heading, even the corpse on the table they were dissecting had chimed in with his speculations, making Brian hard put to keep a polite look plastered on his face. He'd finally given up and left them to their arguing, convinced they would never notice he had left.

Harry had been correct – the map was incomplete. Many times he'd turned down a corridor only to find several branches turning off of it that were not penned in. Brian had brought along a pencil and had begun pencilling in some of the new turns, only to find his additions being turned into permanent ink marks as the map took in the information and added it to the internal database. Brian chuckled and vowed to let his boss in on the secret when he returned to the office.

Many of the new corridors ended in long-unused rooms, some of which looked like private quarters – perhaps for older apprentices – and others appeared to be abandoned classrooms. Dust covered everything and many of the bed-hangings were moth-eaten or mildewed past redemption, stinking of decay. Generations of mice had made nests in the rotten mattresses, their black eyes shining red in the reflected light of his _lumos_ and their tiny claws skittering across the flagstones as they scattered to hide in the dark corners of the rooms. He nearly wore a permanent Bubblehead Charm as he travelled the ancient tunnels. He gave every room a cursory look for the reluctant spirit before moving on, diligently marking their locations on the map.

He had noticed several branchings, or hidden passageways, behind old portraits and deceiving masonry. These had looked promising for hiding his quarry and he pursued them religiously, following instructions as they appeared on the map. How the map knew how to access these newly found areas was as much a mystery as the magic that went into making the map itself. He suspected some sort of linking charm that let the castle share in the map – lending its centuries of magic to the knowledge within the parchment.

Unfortunately, one such passageway had crumbled underneath him. The rotten rock seemed to dissolve into sand as it deposited him into a deeper, older tunnel that was half-submerged under brackish water. Unfortunately, the more solid bits of rock splattered around him, bouncing off his unprotected head and shoulders and coming to rest on top of his legs, effectively pinning him in place. One particularly sharp and jagged remnant slashed over his wrist making his fingers go numb, his wand falling from his hand and getting crushed under the boulders. Other parts of the upper corridor caused the water in the tunnel to back up, the water level slowly but surely beginning to rise and he noticed carcasses of things he really did not want to identify floating around his legs.

He'd tried yelling for help, but of course he was too far away for anyone to hear his muffled cries. He'd tried conjuring a Patronus wandlessly, to send with a message – but he could not summon enough happy thoughts at the moment in the midst of the pain in his legs. He knew there was nothing really broken, but being unable to move for so long had impeded his circulation and his legs were going numb with the inactivity, the bruises starting to bloom.

His wrist watch ticked away the hours as he stood there, water swirling around his legs slowly leeching him of needed body warmth. Wonderful, just what he needed to top off the day – hypothermia. Periodically he would call out and other times he began reciting old charms and defence lessons just to hear a voice.

"Hullo? Is someone down there?" Brian almost wept with joy when he spotted a light above his head and the gravely voice spoke.

"Yes, please! The floor collapsed and I've been pinned down by some rubble – my wand is broken!" His teeth began chattering as he gazed above him, waiting for the rescue party to show themselves.

"Hold on," the voice directed. A chill wind blew through the chamber as the light floated down to settle near Brian, coalescing into the form of Grystin Gryffindor, The Bloody Baron. Brian moaned outright, clapping a hand to his forehead in frustration.

"Perfect," he groaned.

**Saturday, September 23****rd****, 2006 - The Burrow - England**

As the afternoon had worn on, and the air outside grew cooler, the party had moved indoors where some judicious spell casting of expanding charms had widened the already large parlour to accommodate the milling group of family and friends.

Albus had eventually let go of Severus' finger in favour of his mum's arms when he had given in to hunger and made his preference known to the group at large. Ginny had rescued the tyke with an apologetic nod to her former Professor who had handed over the banshee willingly. He had eventually been changed out of his naming gown and into a romper only to settle down for his afternoon nap surrounded by exhausted children of varying ages. They were all bedded down in Molly and Arthur's bed with a whole slew of monitoring charms thrown on it – just in case.

The remaining adults had repaired to the comfortable seating and Arthur had produced the mead, allowing Teddy a finger of it in his glass, watered down the rest of the way. Abby had helped out in the kitchen for awhile, marvelling at Molly's prowess.

"How do you keep it all straight?" she asked from her perch on a stool, taking in the dishes washing themselves and putting themselves away in the cupboards, a knife slicing up a wheel of hard cheddar while another neatly sliced a fresh loaf of bread. A broom was making its way around the room with a dustpan following while a colander was shaking itself to rid the fresh greens inside it of water. Abby's eyes glowed as she watched. Molly herself was folding freshly laundered napkins, sticking them into rings.

"Oh, once you start the spell up – it goes until you tell it to stop. _Finite!"_ she demonstrated, pointing her finger at the colander which gave a final shake then came to a rest on top of a spread out tea towel on the drain board.

"Genius," Abby pronounced in admiration. "Uh, oh, Floo call!" she announced as she heard the tell-tale rumblings in the chimney. Molly looked at her in surprise.

"You hear that?"

"Of course! Doesn't everyone?" Abby asked guilelessly.

Before Molly could answer, a head popped out of the Floo – bouncing in mid-flame. Abby recognised Professor Flitwick who had left several hours earlier.

"Molly! Oh thank Merlin! Is Severus and Minerva still there?" he squeaked, clearly agitated about something.

"Yes, I believe so – Oh, Abby has gone to get them for you. What's up?" she asked as Abby hurried to the other room to grab the requested parties.

"Harry's Auror has gone missing," Flitwick explained quickly.

"Abigail, grab Harry as well!" Molly called out and heard a faint affirmative in reply. Soon the Kitchen was full of adults, all of them filing in after the requested trio.

"Professor Flitwick, what's happened?" Harry asked, coming forward with Minerva and Severus hard on his heels.

"Brian Boswell has gone missing. We can't find him anywhere – we thought we might borrow – ah – your father's map?"

"Damn, I lent it to Brian," Harry heard a distinctive Snape Snort behind him, but he ignored it. "I think he was going to go down into the Dungeons with it."

Flitwick's head was bobbing up and down in the flames. "We thought that as well, but no one here knows the area that well. Severus, well – we were hoping you would come over and help search. You know the area so well."

"I should; I spent nearly thirty years there," he grumbled, but stopped when Abby punched him in the arm.

"Cut it out, Snape! A United States Navy Lieutenant is missing – now go help find him!" she insisted, pushing her friend forward.

"Pipe down, Sciuto, I was going to offer my services. Gentlemen, let us depart!" He summoned his cloak and, waving Filius back into the fire, Flooed out – but not before grabbing Abby by the arm and dragging her along.

"You know how he will think, Abby," he explained when she stumbled out of the Floo in Flitwick's office, spitting out ash as in her haste she'd forgotten to close her mouth. They got of the way quickly as more flares of green flames heralded the rest of the search party and Snape ran his wand over her, cleaning her of the errant ash. She flashed him a grateful smile. Harry and Minerva were the next to arrive, followed by Arthur, George, Andi and Ron. Severus rolled his eyes at the thought of all these past Gryffindors sneaking around in _his_ Dungeons – for he still considered them his territory, even after eight years of absence.

"All right, Potter, what was your wayward American Lieutenant doing here?" Severus asked when everyone had gathered.

So Harry explained Brian's mission and the reason for borrowing the map to explore the Dungeons.

Rolling his eyes, Snape snarked, "That's all? He was trying to find the Baron? That's easy enough to solve; follow me." He led the group down through the school, the party gaining interested looks from students returning from Hogsmeade, into the side corridor where his former Quarters had been when he had lived in the underpinnings of the school. "There is a little alcove where the Baron hides when he doesn't want to be found. Only Slytherins know of its existence," he looked around at the group, "And now five Gryffindors and a Muggle know. What is the world coming to..." he asked rhetorically as he pressed on a hidden stud in the wall and a portion hinged inward to reveal an old dusty chamber, ancient by any standard. Furnished in antique, solid wood furniture that indicated a study of some sort, the dust rose from the flagstones as the air flowed in from the outer corridor, the motes dancing in the light of Severus' bright _lumos_. "Welcome to Slytherin's office – or rather, one of them." He swept his hand forward, inviting them to enter where they discovered the Baron floating up near the ceiling, eyebrows raised at the mini-invasion.

"Baron," Severus greeted him, bowing at the waist.

"Severus Snape; so the rumours are true. What can I do for you?" the wraith asked, floating lower to greet his former Head of House.

"You have been playing games with a visiting Auror and he has gone missing. I believe it is time to find him and put these questions to rest, my lord."

Grystin sighed, the sound setting everyone's teeth on edge. "If I must, I was having such fun leading him on," he declared. "But I will talk to him only if you come back," he announced. Abby started giggling as she noticed the pole-axed look on Snape's face.

"I beg your pardon?" Severus asked, not sure he had heard the spectre correctly.

"The school is not the same without you here," the Baron began.

"Yes, I am quite sure it is much _better_ without me!" Snape snapped. "We can discuss this later, we need to find that Auror now – he has been gone for quite a number of hours, I am told. He could be seriously injured or worse," he pointed out.

"Very well, if you insist. I shall check the hidden passageways while you lot scour the regular corridors." With that statement, he floated through the wall next to him to begin his searching and Severus split up the groups into pairs and led them to the areas they needed to check.

Severus led Abby, hoping she could figure out where the errant American might have wandered to, and she'd had several good ideas. In fact, they had spotted many new sets of footprints in the dust of old corridors, but they all had matching sets leading out. As well as he'd known the dungeons, there were many apparent hidden area's that Boswell had discovered with Potter's map that he, himself, had been unaware existed.

Abby glanced up at the frustrated face of her friend. "Why so glum? I thought you might enjoy seeing the old place."

"It has a touch of familiarity that is comforting," he allowed. "But, it is also disquieting. I thought I had known this area like the back of my hand – but as these prints show," he pointed his lit wand at a double set that clearly led through a blank wall and back out again, "it still has its mysteries and secrets that it kept hidden from me." She thought he almost sounded betrayed and snuck her hand into his, giving it a squeeze of comfort.

"It's a magic castle, Severus; no one will ever know all of its ins and outs. Dora once told me she thought the castle had a mind of its own after having all this magic inside of it for so long and that it would do things just to have fun with the inhabitants, like creating corridors where none had been, switching things around just to annoy the teachers and stuff like that."

He peered over at the woman standing next to him and gently tightened his grip on her hand. "Nymphadora was correct, this place does have a sense of humour and it was extreme hubris that made me think I was intelligent enough to have known all of her secrets. Shall we continue on? His path seems to continue on down there." He pointed into the gloom and they followed the fading prints.

Nearly an hour went by before Grystin floated back to Severus. "I've found him, he's in a bad way – may be joining my side soon..." he said hopefully.

Sending off message patroni, Severus hauled in the rest of the searchers and they took off at a run, following the Baron down several twisty old alleys that wound their way through the bedrock of the castle foundations.

"Through here," the Baron pointed, his ghostly finger disappearing into the brickwork.

"How in Merlin's beard are we supposed to get in there?" Ron asked. "There's no door!"

"With the password!" the ghost declared.

"Do you know it?" Weasley shot back, clearly getting agitated. Harry put a hand on his friend's arm to calm him down before trying to speak respectfully to the ghost.

"Is Lieutenant Boswell still conscious? Could you ask him what the password is? The map would have given it to him," Harry explained. He really hoped Brian was only slightly injured and that they had found him in time. He had grown quite fond of the American over the year he'd been with their department. He knew he had learned things from the Lieutenant and hoped the learning had been reciprocal.

The ghost considered this for a moment. "I shall see if he remembers." He floated through the brickwork and was quickly back.

"He said the instructions are to tap the centre brick three times and say 'Patefacio Sesame'." Abby, Minerva, Severus and Andi all began laughing outright while Harry and the Weasleys looked on helplessly.

Through snorts, Abby translated for them. "Open Sesame." Harry's face broke out in a huge grin as he got the joke but Ron still looked clueless.

"I'll explain later, Ron," he promised as Minerva performed the necessary actions and the wall melted away to reveal a dark, sloping tunnel that the Baron illuminated with his glowing ectoplasm. He hovered over a gaping hole in the floor, several yards from the entrance.

"Oh, thank god!" a voice floated up to them as their _lumos'_ revealed Brian Boswell's predicament.

"Hang on, Boswell, we'll get you out of there quickly!" Harry called down to him.

Quickly was a relative term. It took them nearly a half hour but, with judicious uses of hovering charms to gently remove the rubble from around the imprisoned Auror, they were able to eventually free him from the rubble and floated him up and out into the main corridor, dripping and shivering. There, Severus conjured a stretcher that Harry insisted Brian be laid upon, wrapping him in warm blankets. The Baron floated on behind them after Snape had given him a stern glance.

"Your old quarters are nearby, Severus, and no one has used them since you left," Minerva offered.

"Probably afraid of booby-traps!" George whispered to Ron, but Snape heard him and only gave them a smirk before leading the troop back to the main part of the Dungeons.

He led them back to the corridor where they had first found the Baron and placed his hand dead centre on a black oak door, tapping out a complicated pattern between the splayed fingers with his wand. With an ominous rusty creak, the door reluctantly swung open and Severus went through first, waving his wand dramatically as he crossed over the threshold causing George and Ron to enter warily when it was their turn. Harry floated Brian before him as Severus waved on the wall sconces.

Everything was as he had left it eight years before; a little dustier, but that was all. A quick freshening charm later and the dust was gone and the sheets on his bed aired when he did the same in the sleeping chamber. He directed Harry to place Brian on the duvet while he headed down the hallway to his private potions store. He returned with Poppy and several jars and phials bobbing along behind him that settled on the nightstand.

Pomfrey went straight to work, evaluating her patient and finding nothing more daunting than a slight case of hypothermia and some bruised bones and scrapes from the rocks. Pepper-up was drunk and warming charms applied after unguents to relieve the bruising were applied and the scrapes healed with a wave of her wand.

"I expect to see him upstairs in a proper bed when you are done," she threatened Snape.

"This is not a proper bed?" Severus asked looking around at the quite well appointed bedroom. "Suited me fine for quite a number of years!"

"You know what I mean, Severus," she chided, wagging her finger under his nose while Abby giggled behind her hand nearby, and he grinned at her as she packed up her bag and took her leave. "Helena is floating around in the infirmary, I'll send her down," she called back.

While waiting for the Grey Lady to show up, Abby wormed her way into the bedroom to make her acquaintance of the invalid Navy Auror. She grinned at the handsome man, approximately Harry's age, as he leaned up against the carved headboard of Snape's Queen-sized bed. He actually looked like he belonged in the room, ensconced on the thick woollen covers that still graced the bed.

"Abby Sciuto, NCIS," she announced, holding out her hand.

Brian looked wonderingly at this dynamic Goth woman who seemed too peppy to be dressing the way she did – although somehow it seemed to work for her. He smiled back at her, her cheerfulness infectious. "NCIS? They didn't call you in just for me disappearing, did they?" Brian asked, shaking her hand.

Abby laughed brightly, all the men in the room perking up at the sound. "No, I'm visiting my Aunt and cousin who are related to your boss. Severus is a friend of mine and he brought me along thinking I might be able to figure out where you might be lurking – but turned out I wasn't needed. The ghost found you instead. Glad to meet a fellow American, though."

"Same here. What do you do for NCIS? I hate to say this, but you don't look Navy to me..." He let his eyes roam again over her clothes and styling touches, liking what he saw until he saw the man who'd given him the potions, glowering nearby.

"I'm not – I'm the forensics specialist in Washington," she explained. He nodded, understanding. Actually, as an Auror, he'd heard of the Washington domestic team and their success rate in solving crimes. Sciuto's name was quite renowned in some circles. He just hadn't realised she was 'that' Abby Sciuto. He said as much, garnering a smile for his efforts.

"Abby, if you're going to stay and listen, grab a chair – Helena has arrived," Snape directed toward her.


	9. Chapter 9

**Saturday, September 23****rd****, 2006 – Hogwarts Castle, Snape's former quarters.**

Harry had Flooed up to Brian's room to grab the man's notes taken so far and handed them off to Brian as Abby decided to just sit next to the Lieutenant on the bed, helping him prop up more comfortably with pillows. McGonagall transfigured her handkerchief into a lap desk for the young man as the rest of the group gathered around the edges of the bedroom, the Gryffindors eyeing the decor and realising the fact was much better than the fiction they'd all wanted to believe for so many years, and the two ghosts floated in, staying at far corners.

Brian took a moment to get his pen ready, shuffling through the notes before he looked up at the spectres hovering in the room.

"Baron Grystin, I've heard from Helena why she coveted the circlet belonging to her mother, and why she wished to strike out on her own. Why don't you give me your version of events? The books in the restricted section are very dry when it comes to everyday history. I take it there is more to the relationship between the two of you than Helena revealed?"

If a ghost could be tender, then that was the look Grystin spared for his lost love who currently had her back to him, nose in the air. "Aye, I had been her primary suitor in life – and in fact our parents had read the bans when we were but in our swaddling clothes. They had only to be formalised when we reached our majority. But Helena would not acquiesce."

"Because I was given no choice in the matter!" she spluttered, whipping around in the air to pin him down with a glare. The temperature in the room dropped significantly and Abby was watching, fascinated, her dark eyes glittering.

"It was for the best..." The Baron sounded as if he was spouting an old argument, one he knew he would never win.

"Whose? Yours? Mine? Our parents? Hogwarts?" she railed.

"Yes," came his short, succinct answer.

"Arrrrrghhh!" she wailed, pale tears sliding down her face in frustration. "If there is one thing I've learned over the centuries, it is that women are at least appreciated now for their brains and are no longer thought of as chattel!" She turned to glare at all the men in the room who had the grace to blush amidst her onslaught.

"Yes, see?" she said, throwing an arm around to take in the watching audience. "Even these 'modern men' feel guilty because they know I'm right!" She grinned a bit self-righteously. "I was expected to toe the line, do my duty to my family and estate; produce more witches and wizards with the proper bloodlines." She pranced around the room in a sarcastic manner, in short Galliard steps, her tone of voice matching her body language before whirling around to pin her doomed lover with her wrath. "Well I had no interest in that. I wanted to experience the world, use my talents for those who would pay well for them. And I had all that knowledge at my fingertips – and no way to access it!" She howled in remembered frustration her hands outstretched before her, grasping at dead air before falling back to her sides in fists.

"How was I supposed to admit defeat and return home?" she asked rhetorically. "I couldn't. Mother would have just smiled in her all-knowing way, patted me on the head, handed me my sewing and sent me off to the solar. Father would have respected me, but he still saw me as only a competent witch biding my time until marriage settled me down. I am my mother's daughter – I don't take a back seat to anyone! Why she thought I would just meekly accept my fate when she didn't, I have no idea."

"So what did you do?" Abby blurted out, caught up in the tale despite herself. She loved a good ghost story, and here she was listening to a ghost telling a story!

Helena took notice of the woman for the first time. "Who are you?"

"Abby Sciuto. That's my aunt over there and I'm friends with George and Severus..." She figured it might be politic to point out she wasn't any stray Muggle.

Helena gazed at her for a moment, her eyes piercing into Abby's own before nodding her head. "Ah, a half-magical... I think you call them Squibs now?" Abby's and Severus' eyebrows hit the roof, while Andromeda nodded her head wisely – several things making sense.

"Half-magical?" Brian asked. He knew about Squibs – his father was one – but he'd never heard them referred to as Half-magical.

"Very minor amounts of magic are able to be accessed. Commonly known as second sight, women's intuition; sometimes minor healing or ability to predict future and weather are heightened somewhat. A very common occurrence." She shrugged it off and Abby looked delighted – it explained a lot to her. Severus, standing next to her, squeezed her shoulder once as he felt the excitement pouring off of her and she smiled up at him.

"And are you married?" the spectre questioned her.

Abby looked around before realising Helena was still questioning her. "Me? Good lord, no!"

"Then what do you do? Wait around until your father finds a suitor?"

"Hardly – I run my own – ah – potion's lab." She shrugged at Severus as if that was the best explanation she could come up with that the wraith would understand. "I went to school and received several degrees in a field I love, and I have a job I adore where I'm respected for my work..."

"You are your own mistress of your destiny," Helena declared, looking at Grystin while she spoke, obviously scoring a point.

"Yes, I guess you could say I am – I decided what to study; applied for and gained my job... I get paid for that work, rent my own apartment, pay my bills... Yes, I run my own life," Abby agreed. Helena thanked her and then continued to answer Abby's original question.

"In any case, you asked what did I do when I discovered that I could not access the knowledge? I was staying at that time with a minor nobleman's family, helping with some warding requests and spending the evenings reading palms and drawing up astrological forecasts for the family when I received a message from Llewellyn – the clerk my mother trained up – who was travelling with the Baron, seeking me. I didn't realise that the missive had a tracking charm on it – or I would have fled sooner." She glared at her former suitor before continuing. He had the grace to look abashed – floating a bit further out of her reach.

"This nobleman lived in the centre of Albania and owned a huge stand of old wood that surrounded the castle and its tiny village. I rode out the next day, taking the coronet with me – as I knew I could not return it - and went to the heart of the wood. There was a very famous, ancient tree there – even then – that held tremendous earth magic. Much of the area's power emanated from that tree, and about half-way up the trunk was a hollowed out hole. I cast numerous preservation spells on the coronet then floated it up to rest hidden in the tree.

"I decided to tarry there for a while under the tree, since it was midday, and brought out my lunch from my saddlebags, spreading the horse-blanket on the ground. And that was where he found me!" She crossed her arms and turned her back again on her fellow spectre.

"I'm sorry; how many times must I apologise?" But his pleading fell on deaf ears as she ignored him. He turned to speak to Brian instead. "I was under strict orders from her Ladyship to find Helena and bring her home. I knew nothing of the theft of the coronet – it wasn't until recently that I discovered why she had been out there. I was there to bring Helena home – her mother was dying and she wished to see her daughter one last time. That was the reason I was given. She thought if it came from me, one Helena knew and cared for, it would be easier. But Helena adamantly refused. I – I felt like I was being made a fool of and I lost my temper."

Helena snorted from her corner. "Lost your temper. That's putting it lightly!" she grumbled. If a ghost could blush, Grystin seemed to do just that.

"I didn't mean to hit you," he ignored the gasps from the watchers in the chamber. "You just made me so angry... You wouldn't listen to reason." He turned back to the rapt audience. "I backhanded her and she lost her footing, smashing her head against a burl on the tree, and falling on her eating knife." As Harry had seen before, Helena parted her cloak to reveal the single wound marring her chest. Grystin waited a moment before he continued. "She died in my arms without awakening. I – I was so devastated that I pulled my sword, set it in the ground and ran myself upon it. I couldn't go on without her, I loved her so much – I had to join her in death." His sobbing rattled through the room, setting everyone's teeth on edge. But they couldn't look away – instead they turned to see how Ravenclaw's ghost was taking this tale.

Helena had turned at the anguished sound of Grystin's voice, cold tears threatening to spill from her own eyes and there were several sniffs heard from the female contingent in the room. Severus whipped out his handkerchief and tantalisingly hung it over Abby's shoulder where she automatically reached up and took it, dabbing at her eyes in sympathy. "I never knew that..." Helena whispered, stunned at his tale. In all the years since he had murdered her, she had never taken the time to learn his part in it – too upset with him to seek him out and just talk.

"You've refused to speak to me for a thousand years," he pointed out, still wailing in his grief. "I followed you in life and in death. What I did was inexcusable – I know that. I regretted it the minute I lashed out! If I could take it all back, I would!" he cried out in anguish. "My worst fault has always been my temper – and you could always set me off with just a word... I knew that and I still let you goad me." He paused a moment before continuing. "If – if you had been given a choice, would you have chosen me?" He floated nearer to her and you could have heard a pin drop as everyone was on the edge of their seat, listening, eyes bouncing between the two wraiths as they floated above their audience, players on their own centre stage.

"After I had travelled and gotten the wanderlust out of my system, aye, I probably would have... if I'd been given the choice," she qualified.

"Do you think, mayhap, this has gone on long enough?" he asked more softly, coming even nearer, holding his hands out to her placatingly.

"Perhaps. Maybe it is time to remedy that?" she said coyly, leaning forward to grace him with a chaste kiss on his cheek. He fairly glowed in happiness as he offered her his arm and they floated through the walls, heads bent together, ignoring everyone else in the room.

"But..." Brian spluttered as the spectres disappeared.

"Give it up, Boswell – you've gotten what you are going to get," Severus advised and chuckled lightly as Brian fell back against the pillows in a huff, throwing his biro down in disgust. "I believe you have more than enough to write up the definitive history of the founders and their offspring. And I'm sure, now that those two are speaking to each other again, that if you need anything else, they will answer it. I... Yes, Baron?"

Everyone looked up, startled, as the Baron popped his head back into the room. "That corridor that your young chap fell through is part of a secret system that Slytherin devised. If you enter them from the correct vantage points, you will discover Slytherin's private labs... just thought you'd like to know." He left nearly as abruptly, as if someone had yanked him back through the wall, ghostly giggling echoing back to them, leaving a stunned former Potion's professor behind him. He looked ready to go exploring right then, but Abby and McGonagall put their foot down; Abby, by holding an arm against his midriff and growling – "Not until daylight, mister!" and McGonagall by pulling her wand and threatening him with the same thing.

"It's waited this long, young man, it can wait another day," she proclaimed over his protests. "Let's let the Lieutenant rest a bit before sending him down there again, hmmm?"

Severus reluctantly agreed, grumbling about ghosts and their secrets, and Brian was eventually hustled up to the infirmary where he was dosed again before being tucked in by the matron.

Soon it was Harry, Abby and Snape left in the old rooms and Harry excused himself soon after, claiming Ginny would soon wonder where he was.

He peered around the sitting room, taking a long look, before reaching for the Floo pot on the mantel. "I'm disappointed, sir, where are all the chains and pickled innards? The Slytherins had us convinced that was what was in here!" He grinned at his son's godfather.

Severus quirked his mouth in amusement. "You must be thinking of Filch, Potter – although I kept the pickled innards in my office. Surely you remember? You were there often enough!"

Harry touched his hand to his brow with a little bow, "Touché, sir!" and with a laugh, Harry Flooed out. Severus sat across from Abby who was sipping on a bottle of Butterbeer.

"Well, now you know why you and Gibbs are on the same wavelength," he commented. "How do you feel about it?"

"Like I've hit three out of five numbers in the lottery and just won twenty bucks. Maybe it means my kids will get the gene in full force some day," she mused.

"Perhaps. You need to _have_ children in order for that to happen, Abigail," he pointed out matter-of-factly.

She cocked her head at him and smiled – but decided not to pursue the question just yet. Instead she got up and began to peruse the bookcases that lined the walls of his sitting room, carrying her bottle with her to sip off of as she ran her finger along titles.

"Don't go above eye-height; those are warded and will bite," he warned as he watched her travel slowly around the room. She nodded that she had heard him and made sure she didn't reach beyond shoulder level.

"I saw you talking with the Headmistress," she finally said. "I'm assuming she wants you back?" She finished her perusal and returned back to the couch, sitting a bit closer to his end. After Brian had been bundled up to the infirmary, the other adults had stayed talking for awhile in Severus' parlour. George had pigeon-holed his mentor, gaining a promise of the man visiting the store in the near future for 'research purposes' and after the Weasleys had left, Minerva had corralled him – talking low and urgent. Abby had noted how his head-shaking had eventually changed to reluctant head-nodding, complete with deep sighs and pursed lips on his part.

"She does – in a limited capacity. Her offer was quite generous, monetarily, and she wants me to teach special advanced classes in Defence and Potions – for those 'gifted' students, as she put it," he said, marking quotes in the air with his fingers.

Abby grinned as she put her empty bottle on the table in front of her. "In other words, students you prefer to teach," she clarified.

"Just so," he agreed, smiling over at her.

"Are you going to take her up on her offer?"

He was silent for a moment, pondering the question as he gazed into the fire, delving deep inside and prodding those feelings that had festered so long. Now, like a missing tooth, the area had healed over leaving empty, scarred tissue. Abby was patient, watching him until he finally answered. "I might. It wouldn't take effect until next term. She wants to assess the students and see who would meet my qualifications before recommending them for my sections."

"_Your_ qualifications? So you are seriously thinking about this. What about your mail-order business? You've been saying for years how you like your solitude, are you really that willing to give it up?"

"What about it? I can do that just as easily from here as from my cottage." He looked around the room from his perch on the sofa, ignoring the second half of her question, before giving in and getting up to pace around the room. Abby thought he reminded her of a panther on the prowl, making sure his territory was still his. "I miss these rooms – I didn't realise how much until I came back here tonight, Abigail. Something I had been missing clicked into place when I crossed the threshold again." He turned around and looked at her. "Does that make sense?"

She slowly stood up and walked over to him, placing a hand on his and giving it a slight squeeze. This had been the answer she was hoping he would give. She knew that there had been times in the past when he'd truly loved to teach and she knew that no matter where he lived, Hogwarts would always be his home. It was where his heart truly was – a true academician at the core of it all. The clippings and photos on his walls in the cottage were indicative of that. "Absolutely," she acknowledged. "I feel that way every day I step into my lab at NCIS. I know that place like the back of my hand – those machines are my babies. They do their best work just for me! I have that place tuned to me – it is as much my lair as this is yours. You've lived over half your life here, Severus – of course it is what feels like home."

"Thank you," he said simply, gathering her in closer and dropping a kiss on her forehead. She leaned into him, purring under her breath as he pressed a finger under her chin to tilt it up so that their lips could meet. "I've wanted to do that for a long time, Abby," he confessed after the long, heat filled moment.

"And I've been wishing you would..." she said breathlessly as she wrapped her long arms around him, lifting her face up for more intimacy as he granted her wishes wholeheartedly.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Just to let you know, this chapter is the reason why this has an M rating. If you are under 18, you should not be reading this story. Only one more chapter to go - glad everyone has been enjoying the journey. Now, back to your regularly scheduled lemons.**

**Sunday, September 24****th****, Hogwarts - Scotland**

Abby slowly woke up, stretching like a kitten, warm and comfortable as she felt arms tightening around her, hugging her close as she snuggled her head under his chin, chest hairs tickling her nose. She let a hand rove gently over the taut muscles under the sparse sprinkling of hair, delighting in the feel of them tensing under her fingers as she traced a meandering pathway between his pectorals, around the areoles – watching delighted as they perked up. Lower and lower her hand travelled, under the bed covers, following the trail of hair to his belly-button, licking her finger and letting it rim the small hole teasingly. She let her fingers spread out even further along his lower abdomen, teasing and stroking until a growl above her caused her to grin even wider as she was abruptly lifted, making her squeal in laughter, as he rolled her over to land on top of him. She loved how their bodies fit so well together.

"Wench! What do you think you are doing?" he said, trapping her hands in his as she wriggled seductively on top him, teasing him even further.

"What do you think I'm doing? Waking you up in the best possible way!" She let her knees drop to either side of his hips as she straddled him, feeling his arousal begin to stiffen under her. She tightened her abdominals, arching her pelvis forward over his and rocking back again. He groaned, closing his eyes as she began the gentle tempo. She managed to loosen one of her hands and reached underneath her to help stroke and guide him, running a finger over the sensitive skin. She felt him shudder underneath her and his breath caught as she began moving more deliberately, quickening the tempo. His hands dropped to his sides and he clutched at the covers as she ran her hands along his shoulders and arms, spreading the heat of her desire over his skin. Her hair, long ago released from the rubber bands that kept it out of her eyes, fell forward around her face accentuating her dark eyes. He reached up a hand to let the black tresses flow through his fingers before dropping them lower to caress her breasts, teasing her nipples erect.

"Didn't you get enough last night?" he asked, fighting a losing battle to slow things down.

"Never," was her reply before she dipped forward, licking his lips before kissing him passionately as his body moulded to hers and began joining her dance in earnest, his tongue caressing her mouth in the same hot rhythm.

"See, I told you," she said a half-hour later as they relaxed in the shower, scrubbing each other down. "The best way to wake up in the morning! Starts the day off great!"

"I have to agree," he said while running the washcloth all over her lithe body, enjoying the cascade of bubbles down her body being washed away by the water spray. He admired her body art, tracing fingers along the stick figures of the angel and devil on her shoulder blades, following the outline of the flower petals of her daisy at the top of her spine, and studying the intricacies of the ornate cross that graced the lower region of her spine. He could have gone on some more, letting things wind their way to a delightful soapy conclusion, but he stopped, stating: "We do need to get ready to see what is in those tunnels, though. I'll transfigure your clothes into something a little more suited to stumbling around old, mouldy tunnels." He dropped a kiss on her lips, letting his thumbs caress her cheekbones.

"Oh, I didn't even think of that! That would be great, thank you! Aren't you excited about what could be down there?" she asked, hopping a little in place.

"Well, if it is in any way connected to the same chambers that Potter found back during his second year, there is still a rotting Basilisk corpse down there..." he said enticingly.

She stepped back from him, stunned. "You're joking."

He turned off the water and floated a warmed, fluffy towel to her which she allowed him to wrap her in with a kiss.

"Far from it, my dear Abigail. That child managed to get in enough scrapes and hair-raising, death defying acts that would have knocked a dozen full grown Wizards on their arses in just six years of attending this school. Of course it didn't help that Albus fairly pushed him into these situations, eyes twinkling all the while," he groused as he wrapped his own lower half in a similar towel and ran his wand over their heads in a quick coiffure spell that instantly dried and brushed their tresses. Abby grinned at the display of magic as it tingled over her head, the invisible brush massaging her scalp.

"Do you have an extra toothbrush?" she asked and he directed her to a low cabinet that housed all manner of bathroom essentials. She snatched two boxed toothbrushes, handing one to him and they quickly cleaned their mouths and she popped her hair up into two braids while he ran his wand over his face with a depilatory charm – leaving just the well trimmed Vandyke.

He led her back to the bedroom, which a house-elf had already set to rights while they were showering, and transfigured her outer garments into sturdy black jeans and a long sleeved black t-shirt bearing a Hogwarts logo over the left breast pocket.

She smiled broadly as she spotted it and happily slipped into her clothes, sneaking back into the bathroom to apply her daily makeup and the studded collar she had worn the previous day. She felt downright naked, otherwise. While she was in the ensuite, Severus had rummaged in his own closets and found some appropriate clothes that could handle their adventures, not far off from what he had given Abby.

He had transfigured her Mary-Jane platform shoes into something more utilitarian to go spelunking in, and she slipped them on and tied them quickly before joining him in his parlour.

"We've received an invitation to join everyone up in Minerva's office for breakfast before we depart for the nether regions," he said, folding a piece of parchment and dropping it on the coffee table.

"How's the Lieutenant?"

"Doing well enough that he will be joining us for breakfast. The Baron has also agreed to lead the way as he still knows the passageways. Shall we?"

"Floo or walk?"

"Oh, I think we shall walk this morning," he grinned offering her his arm in a gallant manner.

She accepted, linking her arm in his and peered up at him. "You just want to scare the children," she deduced with a smirk.

"Of course. Time to put the fear of me back into them," he chuckled as he led her out of his old rooms, resetting the wards as he closed the door.

"Then you've decided," she said startled.

"I believe I have. I have some ground rules to lay out, but yes – I think I will return to teaching in a limited capacity. But, I'm going to let her sweat a bit before I give her my answer."

"Good," she said simply and happily walked the corridors with him up to the Headmistresses office, grinning as the children scurried away from him, glancing at him with trepidation in their eyes.

* * *

Brian was feeling much better this morning after being nursed by Madam Pomfrey. The potions were vile, as always – apparently that was a universal concept – but they had worked, and the fact that he was walking without a limp this morning testified to their potency.

The matron had reluctantly released him so that he could attend breakfast in the headmistresses' office and he was letting the stairs behind the gargoyle carry him upwards, spiralling up the shaft until it deposited him in a small vestibule outside of an open, heavy oak door.

McGonagall spied him as he hovered uncertainly at the doorway and waved him in, showing him to a seat around a small conference table. A House-elf in Hogwarts livery danced attendance on him, bringing him a large cup of coffee, doctored just the way he liked it, and asked what he would like to eat.

"Just eggs and toast, please, and maybe a small glass of orange juice, if you have it," he requested and smiled as his meal suddenly appeared before him.

"You seem to be feeling better, Lieutenant," Minerva commented as she sipped on her own cup of tea.

"Much, thank you. Your infirmary is in very competent hands. I don't think she wanted to release me!" he said, only partially jesting.

"Hmm, Poppy gets a little possessive of her patients at times," she mused, smiling.

"A little? If she'd had her way, she would have kept me there permanently! And taken on the Dark Lord for me – I probably should've let her!" came the familiar voice of Brian's boss, Harry Potter. He had just Flooed in and was making room for Ron and Arthur to follow swiftly behind him.

"Only because you kept getting into life-threatening situations. You do know you have a bed with your name permanently engraved on it, don't you?" Snape snarked as he and Abby entered from the main entry, joining the group.

"Wasn't my fault – trouble followed me around like a love-sick puppy," Harry parried back, finding his own seat at the table and just asking for tea and toast.

"Really, Potter, is that any way to describe Draco?" Severus volleyed with a smirk and Ron nearly choked on his own tea, as Harry laughed heartily.

"I was thinking more of Tom Riddle, but thank you – Draco does fit that description, doesn't he? How is the little ferret doing – or do you know?"

"I've been kept aware of his ventures through various sources. He and his wife are expecting their first child right after the Yule. Otherwise, he is maintaining his father's businesses and his parents have retired; to France I believe. They have some holdings there." He accepted his own plate of food and strong, black tea from the elf.

"Well, he's managed to keep his nose clean as he hasn't made his way to my department's notice. Abby – Andi wondered where you'd gone off to last night. Pleasant evening?" he teased, noticing the woman was standing a bit closer to Snape and there seemed to be a comfort level about them that had only been hinted at before.

"Absolutely!" she shot back, waggling her eyebrows at him, causing him to laugh again and Minerva to look scandalized. Brian just high-fived the Goth as she made her way to a seat between him and Snape, adjusting her chair a little closer to Severus'. It took Arthur and Ron a bit longer to understand the nuances of the conversation, but when they did – they both blushed as red as the remaining hair on their heads. Severus ignored the banter but managed to quirk his mouth once at his dining companion when she playfully bumped shoulders with him.

While eating, Abby looked over at the messy-haired Auror. "Ferret?" she inquired innocently, causing Minerva, Ron and Severus to nearly spew their tea in remembered hilarity. Brian looking on in similar confusion at the reactions the innocent question had evoked.

"Oh, let me – please?" Ron begged his best friend. Harry waved him on while he ate. "In our fourth year, Draco was being his usually idiotic self and attempted to hex Harry: in a hallway, during school hours, while Harry's back was turned. All of which was against the rules, you understand – but that never stopped these two. Our defence instructor – who was a polyjuiced Death-Eater, although nobody knew it at the time – caught him in the act and, as punishment, transfigured Draco into a white Ferret and started bouncing him all over the corridor. We've been calling him Ferret ever since." Abby looked at him, astounded, before she and Brian broke out in laughter, just imagining the scene.

"Oh, trust me, it was ten times as amusing to watch," Harry verified. Minerva tried to look disapproving, but wasn't very successful and Severus just snorted in his tea.

"Trying to keep you two from killing each other before graduation was nearly a full time job for me!" he quipped.

"He started it from day one," Harry said defensively. "Just as point of fact – I don't know if Dumbledore ever let you know – that mangy hat over there," he pointed to the Sorting Hat resting on a high shelf, "wanted to put me in _your_ house. After having dealt with Draco in Diagon Alley, on the train and waiting to be sorted – I told it anywhere BUT where the git was sorted. So, if he had been a little less high and mighty I would've ended up in Slytherin." He took a sip of tea, watching his old professors' reactions over the rim. Minerva looked pensive, but Snape looked horrified at the idea that he had been that close to having the Chosen One in his house.

Severus then remembered back to those aborted Occlumency sessions where he had seen Harry's deepest darkest secrets of his life living at his aunt's house and all of his confrontations with the Dark Lord up to that point. He cocked his head at the Gryffindor. "You know, Potter, if you had followed the hat's suggestion, I might have been able to help you sooner. Most children that come from troubled pasts end up in Slytherin for a reason."

Harry studied him for a moment, meeting him eye to eye before realising what Severus was meaning. He shook his head. "It wouldn't have worked, sir. He told me I had to stay there for my protection. But, I thank you – it means a lot that you would've tried."

"We'll talk later, Potter. I grew up with her, I could tell you tales..." Severus offered, quietly.

"Thank you. I look forward to it." He perked up looking over Snape's shoulder at the Ghost who was hovering there.

"I am here to guide you to Salazar Slytherin's office," Grystin stated.

0000

"I never knew this was here!" Minerva exclaimed as the group filed through the revealed doorway in the back of her office – well hidden in the panelling behind a bookcase. Severus and Arthur led the way behind the Baron, clearing the magical corridor of cobwebs and centuries of dust as they descended. What should have taken quite a bit of time to travel from the top of the central tower to below the level of lowest dungeon, took merely minutes as the tunnel passed through a magical wormhole, Grystin explained as they walked.

"My master had this installed in order to get from his secret offices to his wife's office in a short amount of time. They also pass through his regular teaching office - you can see the entrance there – where you found me last night. Only family knew about the passageway."

"How did the son of Godric Gryffindor end up the apprentice of Salazar Slytherin?" Brian asked, stepping clear of some dead rodent carcasses as they walked. He flashed uneasily back to the site of similar carcasses bumping into his legs as the water rose in his broken corridor.

"It was common practice to apprentice outside of the family, and I had some talent in potion making as well as affinity to the Fire Element. I apprenticed to him for a full seven years before attaining my mastership. Soon after, I was sent to oversee my father's lands and take over the Baronetcy as was my birth-right. Here we are: Slytherin's Chamber." He floated through a door before realising they did not know how to operate the mechanism. He floated half his body back through to point out the hidden lever, explaining how it operated. Harry followed the ghost's instructions and ancient pulleys and screws creaked and groaned, protesting their long disuse as the door finally gave way with a puff of stale air accompanied by a cloud of dust.

Waving away the detritus, the group cautiously made its way through the doorway that lay hidden behind the three-storey high statue of Slytherin, himself. Arthur threw his hands out to prevent the group to move forward as he spotted the large bulk of reptile skin residing in the chamber.

"There's something out there!" he whispered. Harry grinned and moved past his father-in-law, evading the man's grasp.

"It's a dead Basilisk, dad. I killed it." He walked over to the corpse, noting how well preserved it seemed to be – not even smelling of death. But the beast was clearly dead, the blinded eyes dried up husks in the head, double lids loose and falling in on themselves. The forked tongue was also looking like a piece of dried leather as it lay in the open maw. Snape walked forward reverently, his eyes roaming along the entire length of the beast, practically counting the galleons as he paced its stretched out bulk, estimating its length. He reached out a hand and ran it along the scales, enjoying the cool, dry feel of the skin. He walked back to the gaping mouth, peering in at the multitude of teeth still waiting to be pulled, although he noted several missing. He tapped his chin in wonderment.

Arthur came to stand beside Harry. "This is what you saved Ginny from?" he asked quietly, emotion clogging his throat. Harry nodded numbly, his mind flashing back to those horror filled moments when she lad lain near death on the cold floor, the apparition of Tom Riddle gloating over her still form, feeding off of her life energy, while the basilisk hunted Harry down. Arthur placed a hand on the back of Harry's neck, kneading it in sympathy. "Oh, my poor boy," was all he said. Harry stood there a moment more, then with a little cough, looked over at his former professor.

"She's all yours, sir. If you could just share some of the profits with the school – she was placed here to protect it, you know. I think Slytherin would have liked that," he offered.

"Thank you, Potter, I will take you up on it. I believe I know what task to set my advanced students next semester." He turned to face Minerva as he said that, grinning at her reaction. "Yes, I'll accept your offer. We'll go over specifics later." He returned his gaze to Harry. "Now, I know you had one tooth that you used against the diary back in your second year, but there are more missing and none scattered on the floor. Where are they?" He glanced at Harry, an accusatory gleam in his eye, but it was Ron who cleared his throat.

"That would be me, sir," he sheepishly said.

"_You_, Weasley?" Severus asked, incredulous.

"We needed to destroy Hufflepuff's cup. This book that Hermione had said the only way to destroy a Horcrux was with Fiend Fyre or with Basilisk Venom. The goblin had taken the sword that had Basilisk venom in it, and we weren't about to try Fiend Fyre, so we decided to come down here and use another tooth while Harry was busy hunting down the last Horcrux – the Diadem. We kind of borrowed a few more just in case we needed them," he offered in explanation.

Severus looked at the red-head for a moment. "You had to have gone through Myrtle's bathroom – Only Potter and the Dark Lord could open that entrance; how in Merlin's name did you get in?"

"I've heard Harry say 'Open' in Parseltongue loads of times – I just copied him. It took a few tries but it eventually worked," he explained with a self-deprecating shrug. Severus just stared at him for a moment, realising he had vastly underestimated this Weasley over the years.

"Well, I guess I better check out that potions lab to see if it will be adequate to process this carcass," he said after regaining his equilibrium. He looked up at the ghost drifting nearby. "Baron?"

"Over here, Severus," the ghost said, leading the man to door hidden in the shadows. "This leads to the lab, its opposite number over there leads to his private study and library. This main chamber was used for his spell practice."

While the main portion of the group went to view the study/library, Severus opened the door to the lab, Abby hot on his heels, and they beheld a room that time had forgotten. Solid oak tables, black with age and covered in dust stood in the centre of the room. Along its edges were similar tables, not as deep, that contained dust covered glass and ceramic jars filled with ingredients. Aged, calligraphied labels named them and they were in alphabetical order marching around the perimeter. Woven willow baskets full of small hand-blown glass vials were set at various points. Severus picked up a jar at random, wiping away the centuries of grime from the outer glass and peered at the contents. They looked fresh. He pried off the lid and sniffed. They smelled fresh. He shook a sample out into his hand, rolling it around in his fingers and finally tasting it. It felt and tasted fresh as the day it was picked.

He quirked an eyebrow at Grystin. "Preservation charms? This old?"

Grystin shrugged. "He was one of the two most powerful sorcerers of our time. When he wanted something to stay permanent, it tended to follow his wishes. Feel free to use these. That cabinet over there contains his potions journals. They are numbered." Severus looked as if Christmas had come early, and quickly made his way to the cabinet, opening its doors and surveying the contents. He reverently pulled out a volume at random and began to gently turn the pages, humming to himself in contentment. Abby looked at the grime and frowned.

"I need a House-elf," she called out and instantly a young elf appeared with a pop, looking at her expectantly.

"Do you think you can clean this place up? And get me a bucket and soapy water so that I can help?"

"Mistress help?" The elf was flabbergasted.

"Yes, I want to help. Please?" she pleaded.

The little elf shook its head in disbelief, ears waggling to and fro. But it complied with her wishes and as Severus lost himself in the spidery handwriting of his house's ancestor trying to decipher the entries written in a combination of languages – Spanish, Latin, Greek and English as well as another that he could not understand at all, Abby and the small elf – Gaddy – made the ancient lab quickly sparkle and gleam.

Meanwhile, the rest of the group was exploring Salazar's personal library. Scrolls, ancient books, and gadgets that would have made even Albus' eyes twinkle in envy, littered the wall to wall, floor to ceiling bookshelves. A Savonarola-type chair sat before a matching table, an old stub candle that was burned half-way, still stuck on its wooden holder, sat waiting for someone to light it in the small study off to the side.

Where the laboratory's preservation spells were set on the ingredient jars, this room's spells were all through the room, preserving everything in it from decay, mold, vermin, insects and time. Not a speck of dust resided in here. The scholars in the room headed for the stacks, cooing in delight at the new collection. Ron made a beeline for an ancient chess board set up near the fireplace. This set was not a Wizarding set as he knew them to be, but he still gloried in its discovery – astonished to discover that the founder had the same passion as he did.

Harry was intrigued by the bound journal that sat on the table and, sitting in the ornately carved chair, he pulled it to him, setting a spell-ball of light over his shoulder so that he could read. He flipped through several of the entries, at last coming to the final one. As he read, he could almost feel the ghost of Slytherin settle over him and he could see the man setting quill to page as he wrote his final entry.

_**20 December, Anno Domini 1032**_

_It is done. _

_Helena, Grystin and Rowena have been laid to rest in the vaults below the chapel. The service was held in the Great Hall, beneath Rowena's ceiling magics, which showed a brilliant blue sky today. All the students and many of the townspeople attended and my brother, Godric, gave a stirring eulogy commemorating their lives. No mention was made of how our children died, none needed to know how that happened – only here in my journals has their manner of death been recorded. Rowena's body has been laying in state all month, the students coming and paying their respects to their fallen headmistress. _

_Her apprentices all took turns in the chapel, making sure the candles were always lit, the incense always burning. She looked peaceful there. Much more at peace than she had been in life, lately. The bodies of our children arrived last week._

_Llewellyn had made sure they were dressed appropriately and Helga finished their preparation with Pibeo's help. All three lay together in the chapel until today._

_Llewellyn is distraught, having been the one to discover their bodies in the forest, and does not know what he will do... I am taking him with me when I leave – perhaps travelling will ease his mind, help him to move on. I do not know, but I will welcome his companionship when I leave this place. He was always a quiet, studious lad during his apprentice years, yet with a quick sense of humour. I think we will travel well together. Even now he is here, picking what texts to bring with us and shrinking them into the saddle packs. He is a good lad._

_Godric is taking over the running of the school, I gave him the passwords to Rowena's main office, but did not tell him of the passageways that I devised. Those I have closed off. It would not do to have a stray student wander their way to my chambers. My serpent-child will guard it well. Helga will mother the students, as she always has and they are already searching for more Masters to teach the students. Word is spreading of our school and parents are seeing the sense of sending their children to us for training. One odd thing happened recently. Godric and I entered Rowena's main office and discovered a portrait on the wall of my dear wife. She appeared as she had nearly ten years ago, vibrant with life and ideas – but sound asleep, her chest rising and falling as if breathing. She would not rouse to us calling her name and I don't know if she ever will, but Godric says he will send word if her eyes ever open. _

_Since Godric will be taking over the running of the school, I shall roam and find new students to send to him for training. But, I can stay here no longer. _

_Why did Rowena get ill, why did Helena feel the need to steal her mother's coronet? Where did she hide it? Why did Grystin have to have such a temper? I will never know the answers to these questions. Helena and Grystin did not move on, but are now Ghosts – and they are both avoiding me. Helena stays among the towers and Grystin is haunting the dungeons. Even in death, they remain angry with each other. _

_I am weary now, and feel the need to seek my bed. _

Harry gently closed the book, caressing its leather bound cover for a few moments as he contemplated Slytherin's final words. He was startled, therefore to hear Severus address him.

"Knut for your thoughts, Potter?" The Potions master eased his hip onto the tabletop, looking down at his former student.

"Slytherin's final personal journal." He handed the slim volume to the man and watched as he flipped through the pages.

"You can read this?" Severus asked.

"Clear as day, can't you?" he said, surprised at the question. It had been perfectly legible to him.

"It's not in any language I recognise..." He stared at Harry for a moment then truly peered at him before letting astonishment show on his face. "Of course... It's written in Parseltongue," he declared. "That is why there are sections of his potion's journals I can't read and why _you_ can't recognise it as another language – to you it is like reading English. You understand and speak Parseltongue the same way, don't you?"

Harry mutely nodded. "I thought it had gone away when – He – died..." He swallowed back the bile that had risen in his throat when Snape had realised it was written in Parseltongue. He had never quite gotten used to that ability of his, so wrapped up in his connection to Voldemort as it was. Dumbledore had told him it had been passed to him the night Voldemort had tried to kill him the first time – it had been part of the Horcrux, and when the Horcrux had died – he'd assumed the ability to understand Snake speech had died along with it. To hear he still retained the ability – it felt like Voldemort was rising again. He raised panic stricken eyes to his former professor, begging him to tell him this grim reminder of his past was not foretelling a future confrontation.

Snape eyed him for a moment, seeing the panic striking the young man before him. He searched for the words that would alleviate Harry's worry. "Potter, when have you been around a Snake or had an opportunity since then to even check your ability?" Severus pointed out logically. "I never was quite comfortable with Albus' explanation of that annoying little gift of yours. Parseltongue is not just an ability exclusive to the Slytherin line; it is just the strongest inheritance line. There have been Parselmouths before and after Slytherin and in other families with no connection to him whatsoever." Harry was hanging onto every word, relief evident in his face. Now to lower the bomb that Dumbledore had never told the young saviour – because it didn't fit his handy little prophecy driven scenario. "What Albus conveniently left out was that there were several Parselmouths in your father and godfather's families as well. You could have easily inherited the gift from your father's lineage, or the Black line – remember your grandmother Potter was originally a Black, and not from the Horcrux."

Harry tried to piece where this was going, remembering the genealogies that the Headmaster had made him study during that final year prior to his death. "Were the Potters ever related to Slytherin's line or the Gaunts? I know he was related to the Peverells – that is where my cloak came from and the Gaunts were related to the Peverells through one of the brothers..." He wished mightily that Hermione was here, she knew the stories backwards and forwards and would have been able to tell him in a trice what his familial relationship, if any existed, was to Tom Riddle.

"I am not an expert in Wizard genealogy. In truth, I would suggest you approach Draco for that information, he has the most extensive charts I know of – even better than the Ministry. It is something of an obsession with him, inherited from his father and grandfather. I think, however, that you should use that gift of yours to translate these books – let Slytherin's true voice be heard." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "I would even be willing to help you, especially with the potion journals."

"You just want to get your hands on those hidden recipes," Harry teased, grinning now that the panic had subsided. For a moment he had wondered if Tom was still dwelling behind his scar, waiting for the right moment to spring forward again. It was a relief to know he'd probably had this talent all along. He gazed trustingly at the face of the teacher who'd tormented him for nearly six solid years in school. Who would have thought nine years ago that he would be teasing Severus Snape, or that he would have named a son after him, even naming him godfather to that son.

"True," Severus answered, "I do – I always have an ulterior motive. So, shall we agree to this project?" He held out his hand to the Auror, willing the younger man to agree.

Harry met the hand halfway, shaking it firmly. "It will take forever, you know... he has a lot of these journals," Harry pointed out.

"We're Wizards, Potter and we are relatively young. We have lots of time," Snape reminded him.

Harry paused, feeling eleven again and shocked by the difference between wizards and muggles, a good surprise this time. "True. Fine, I agree – we split any proceeds three ways between you, me and the school. Perhaps we should go in with Brian and form some sort of publishing group – he has all those notes he took on the Founders..."

"You can have them!" Brian said, having heard the last part of their conversation. "I received an owl from Washington this morning while waiting for Poppy to declare me fit for duty. NAMoM is recalling me; they need me to investigate something in the southwest. I've been told to wrap up my cases here and be back by next Sunday. I was going to tell you later on today. So, you can have all my notes on the Founders – they are certainly more extant than what is currently being published on them, and Helena and Grystin have agreed to answer any further questions."

Harry stood up to face his liaison officer holding out his hand. "I'm going to miss you, Brian. Are they going to be sending a replacement?"

He shook his bosses hand heartily. "I honestly don't know. I'll make sure to suggest it to them, though. I know I have learned a lot while I've been here. Oh, and here is your map back," he said, fishing the parchment out of his jacket. "I thought you should know I figured out how to add new findings." He explained about his pencil markings being incorporated onto the existing map and Harry nearly hugged the American in joy.

"You don't know what this means to me – all of the Marauders are gone now and their secrets died with them. The twins and I never got a chance to ask them how it had been made, nor how to expand it." He activated the map for a moment, looking at the new additions and mentally making plans to come back here when he had some time off to finish the explorations. With a sigh, he finally folded it up again and tucked it back into his own pockets.

"Spare bit of parchment, my arse!" Severus murmured, recognising the document from when he'd nearly managed to confiscate it from Harry all those years before. Harry heard and just graced Severus with a grin.

"Well, I don't know about anybody else, but I'm starving. Shall we shrink the books, Severus, and take them with us?" Harry suggested. Agreeing, Severus transfigured some boxes and shrunk down the books so that they would be packed with relative ease. While they were working on the personal journals in the study, he went across the main hall, towing Abby with him, to do the same to the potion journals. They met the others a few minutes later in the central hall under the towering pillars that lined the central walkway, everyone carrying several shrunken boxes of books with them to start the cataloguing process. Ravenclaw's library would be gaining many new editions over the next several months. Madam Pince would be in heaven.

Casting one last envious glance at the Basilisk husk – he wished he could take it with him now – Severus followed the ghost back through the secret passageway, Grystin making sure Severus and Minerva knew the passwords, up to the Headmistresses office.

Severus passed off the journals to Harry for now, as he was the one who could read them, and saying his farewells, Harry Flooed out. Ron and Arthur followed soon after and Brian left to go pack up his room. Minerva offered to call up a light lunch, but Severus declined.

"I do need to get Abby home, Minerva. Why don't we go over my contract for next term later this week – say Wednesday?" he suggested. "I should have my list of requirements set up by then."

"You're going to milk us dry, aren't you?" she said with a sigh.

"Hardly. But, you will make it worth my while to be around dunderheads again – even if the ones I'll be teaching do not qualify as such. By the way, Minerva, _I'll_ be picking the ones I want in those classes. I intend to spend this term observing who seems to be up to the challenge and worth my time spent whipping them into shape. You have Peatbank and Tetroos teaching?" His grimace made it absolutely clear what his opinion of those two men were. "I shall take their recommendations under advisement, but I want to make this perfectly clear, Peatbank is barely competent, and Tetroos plays it safe entirely too often. The coward hid in the ministry during the war, only coming out when he knew it was safe, leaving his family to weather the war on their own. He's lucky they were never targeted during the raids," he scoffed. He had no respect for men like that.

"He was the only one who applied, Severus," the Headmistress reasonably pointed out.

Snape shook his head. "The curse should have lifted when Tom died, Minerva – don't tell me it is still in place? You should be able to contract a much more competent DADA professor."

"It might as well be in place," she groused, clearly upset at the calibre of teacher she'd been able to attract. "Tetroos is the third professor since the war."

Abby piped up. "Maybe you should do a cleansing of the room?" she suggested. Severus and Minerva looked at her in astonishment. "You know, get rid of the bad juju?"

"Bad juju..." Severus muttered, bemused at the thought processes that inhabited Abby's mind. Bad juju indeed; where were they, for Merlin's sake – Scotland or the Caribbean?

"That might work..." Minerva finally said slowly, interrupting Severus' mental meanderings. "Now why didn't I think of that? A ritual cleansing... It couldn't hurt, Severus. We'll need to wait until change of term..."

Severus and Abby left her to her musing and consulting of the various portraits of former headmasters as they borrowed her Floo to head back to his cottage. They lunched on his porch, enjoying the nature of the surrounding forest – what remained of a vast network of forests that had stretched across much of the British countryside and was now reduced to an area that meandered through ten kilometres. His cottage was tucked into a corner of Nottinghamshire that abutted the forest edges affording him unlimited access to its environs. He promised to take her on walks through the old wood later on that week. For now, they enjoyed the sounds of nature, good wine, well-aged local cheese and toasted brioche to eat with it.

"This is so different from my normal day..." she eventually said, listening to wildlife call to each other in the brush. Far off the beaten path, his house was insulated from the sounds of modern life and she soaked in the silence like a sponge. She closed her eyes and breathed deep of the clean air, letting it rush into her lungs, expunging years of living and working in Suburban America.

Severus watched her fondly as he topped off her glass of wine and sliced some more cheese from the round on the board. Popping a slice on a bit of bread, he teased it under her nose and smiled as she took his offering, without ever opening her eyes; just settling back in her chair and chewing contentedly.

"Perfect," she murmured, stretching her arms above her head and turning her head to look at him. "Thank you."

"You are quite welcome. What plans did you have for the rest of your stay?"

"Nothing much. I might take Teddy to the zoo one afternoon and maybe visit a few museums – Oh, and I want to take a ride on the London Eye – that looks like so much fun, especially at night! And the Weird Sisters are going to be giving a concert at the WRock Palace Friday night – I'm definitely going to that, do you want to go?"

He grimaced and she laughed. "Not my style of music, I'm afraid. I'll let you enjoy that without me – I believe you know a few of the band members?"

"Yeah, I still correspond with them. I'll take George, then – he needs to get out more. Maybe I can find him a nice girl there."

"I thought he and Miss Johnson..." but he stopped when she shook her head.

"Didn't work out. She was more Fred's girl than Georges."

"And you're not interested in him?" he asked tentatively. He knew they were close friends – becoming acquainted during those last few years of the war through Tonks. He never really wanted to know how close they had become, knowing he did not have any exclusive rights to her whatsoever. But her reply put those fears to rest.

"Romantically? No, Severus – I'm not. Although, he wishes he were. No, currently there is only one Wizard for me – and he is more than enough," she said exchanging her chair for his lap, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and looking him in the eye.

"If you are telling me that you are secretly lusting after Brian Boswell, Navy Lieutenant at large..." he teased.

"Shut up, Snape," she demanded and gave his mouth something else to do other than make sarcastic remarks.


	11. Chapter 11

**Wednesday, September 27****th****, 2006 – London, England**

"So she accepted all of your requests?" Abby asked as she and Severus took a stroll along the London streets after a dinner date. The temperature was just right and the lights of the government buildings lit up the night. Other couples were enjoying the evening as well, strolling slowly along the tree lined boulevard and music drifted out to the street from open doors to bars, mixing with street musicians busking on corners. Severus had picked her up after his meeting with the Headmistress and Abby was interested in the outcome.

"She did," he was saying. "She had to – she's too desperate to get a competent teacher. Peatbank barely qualifies. He is fine for the younger years and teaching the basics – much more patience than I ever had, but falls apart with the older children. I can see us eventually splitting the classes, me taking fifth years and beyond. They've had too many students barely pass their OWLs in the four years he's been teaching. And precious few pass their NEWTs. I had much better results – I _demanded_ much better results. And Tetroos..." he let out a rush of frustrated air.

"He's the defence instructor?" she prompted.

"Yes and about as incompetent as Lockhart was – which is saying a lot. I've told you about him, haven't I?" he asked, looking over at her. She nodded her head, remembering the letters he'd sent that year. They'd kept her in stitches, laughing, the entire term; which she'd desperately needed during her grad school years. He continued, steering her around a group of patrons watching a street dancer. "I promised McGonagall that I would personally look for a better teacher for next year. His contract is up in July and she will not be renewing it."

She was quiet for a moment, thinking. She had a solution, but knowing their past, wasn't sure how he would take the suggestion. Might as well just go for it. "I've been spending a lot of time with Harry and his family this week, playing with Teddy and James – to get them out from under Ginny's feet while she gets used to another baby in the house," she explained. He eyed her with barely concealed curiosity as to where she was going with this. "Hermione has been spending a lot of time there, waiting for her baby to come as her healer won't allow her to work right now. Did you know that Harry taught most of his friends defence during his fifth year? Apparently, there was a really bad teacher that year."

"Umbridge. Yes, I was aware of his illegal study group. Most of us turned a blind eye to it because they _were_ learning. They had to do something, Umbridge certainly wasn't teaching."

"That's what I heard as well, and I remember you writing some things about that year – but I hadn't coordinated the information until now. Anyways, with two young ones at home, I bet you could convince Harry to change his career for one safer than Auror. I understand he has totally renovated his department, setting up training programs for the Aurors that are much tougher than what Dora went through. Everyone who went through his study group ended up passing their defence OWLs and NEWTs with flying colours," she reminded him, helpfully. "I bet he could do the same with the defence curriculum – make a standardized procedure..."

"You think Potter would give up his life as a celebrated Auror?" he scoffed.

"In a heartbeat. Ask him. It would make going over those journals easier if you were working in the same institution," she pointed out.

"I'll think about it. Ah, here we are!" he said as they turned a corner around the County Hall and Abby looked with delighted eyes upon the huge Ferris wheel known as the London Eye, all ablaze for the evening. She clapped her hands and danced in place in her excitement.

"We're going on it? Oh, Severus, thank you!" She turned and gave him huge kiss then fairly tugged him to the ticket booth. He followed, laughing and they joined the queue. Being autumn and a school night, the line was relatively sparse and they did not have long to wait before they were ushered into a capsule and began the slow, stately rise above the Thames. The lights of London spread out before them as their pod slowly rotated in its berth, the wheel carrying them higher and higher.

Abby and Severus staked out the centre of the long window, his arms wrapped around her as she leaned back against him, marvelling at the scenery spread out below them. A happy grin was plastered on her face during the entire thirty minute ride and Severus played the good host, pointing out landmarks. He also snuck kisses, nuzzling her neck every so often when the rest of their group was busy looking out other sides of the capsule. A discrete notice-me-not charm didn't hurt either.

Afterwards he bought her a postcard book from a street vendor and she bought t-shirts to take back to her friends at work. He found another vendor offering Italian Ices so he bought two which they ate as they walked along the riverbank, enjoying the night and each other.

**Thursday, September 28****th****, 2006 – The Tonks residence**

"Teddy, are you ready, my man?" Abby called across the hall as she pulled on and buckled her last biker boot over her black jeans – the ones Severus had transfigured for her. Today she had paired them with a French tee with an argyle design of a pink-bowed skull running across her chest. A belt designed from a pair of handcuffs held up her jeans. She had pulled her hair back into a single tail that swung jauntily to and fro, her fringe sweeping across her forehead in front.

"I'm almost ready!" her cousin yelled and they ended up meeting in the hallway, both carrying jackets and small backpacks that contained stuff for the day.

"Aunt Andi, we're taking off!" Abby told her Aunt as they trooped through the kitchen, kissing the older woman on the cheek as she sat at the table reading the morning Prophet and sipping her morning cuppa, reading glasses perched on her nose.

"Have a good time, you two. Teddy – you listen to Abby, now. Don't be acting up!" she said, eyeing the boy sternly.

"I won't, Grandma..." He rolled his eyes as she smoothed out his hair he'd just spent many minutes mussing up just the right way. She smiled indulgently at him and smacked his bum as he turned away to head for the Floo powder. They would be heading over to the Potter's to pick up James as well before taking the bus to the zoological park.

"We'll be fine Aunty. Sure you won't join us?" Abby asked as she stood in the doorway to the parlour.

"I'm sure. Go have fun," she said, waving off her niece and reshuffling the paper to the next page. Abby shrugged and joined Teddy at the mantel, grabbing her own floo powder and throwing it down.

* * *

"Here, he passed out just as we were leaving and hasn't woken since," Abby whispered as she passed the sleeping toddler off to his chuckling parent. Teddy was standing next to her, yawning himself. He finally gave up and leaned against her, hair turning black as hers as he began to nod-off as he stood there.

"C'mon in, Abbs – you guys can spend the night here. You'll never get him home in this condition," Harry suggested, ushering them through the Grimmauld place door.

"Are you sure – I wouldn't want to put you out..." she said, fluttering her hands around Teddy, getting him to move with her.

"Don't worry about it. We have plenty of room – I've had a room set aside for him here since he was a baby, and we have a lot of spare bedrooms. It's no problem. Let me take Ted and you head down to the kitchen. Kreacher and Ginny are down there. I'll let Andi know where you guys are," he offered.

"Thanks, I'll take you up on it. I didn't think the trip would be this long," she said apologetically.

He waved her down the corridor and she complied, nearly tripping over a huge Umbrella stand that looked like it used to be part of an elephant. She pushed open the door into the kitchen and spotted Ginny feeding Albus, a receiving blanket slung over her shoulder hiding the nursing baby while Kreacher, the House-elf, bustled around the kitchen getting dinner ready for the family.

Ginny smiled when she saw Abby, telling her to take a seat. Abby snagged a chair across from the mother, dropping her bag across the back of it.

"So how did James like his first trip to the zoo?"Ginny asked.

"He loved it. He was fascinated by everything. His favourite bit was the petting zoo and when I get them printed tomorrow, I have pictures for you. He sat still for nearly twenty minutes while a rabbit sat on his lap, just petting it." She continued to tell Ginny of her day with the boys, laughing at their antics as they had gazed upon the exotic animals. There had been one point where they had been the only ones in the reptile exhibit and Teddy had held a contest with the Chameleon to see who could change colours the quickest.

Ginny guffawed. "What if someone had seen him?"

"No one saw him except Jamie and me. I wouldn't have let him do it otherwise. He needs to practice though – and it really was hilarious. I took some pictures, you'll see."

While they talked, Kreacher set the table around them and Harry finally returned.

"Both of them are fast asleep. Teddy kept nodding off while I was changing him. Andi sent through a bag for you, Abbs – she says it also has clothes for tomorrow night in it. What are you doing tomorrow night?" he asked curiously as he handed over the case.

"Date with George... Actually, George and I are taking Brian to the Weird Sisters concert at WRock Palace. He's never heard them – so we are expanding his horizons," she said smiling widely as she served herself some shepherd's pie.

"I thought..." Ginny began.

"You thought what?" Abby teased her.

"Well, I thought you were with Severus?"

"And?" She wasn't going to make this easy – she wanted to see how far Ginny would take the questioning.

"How can you be going out with George?" she blurted out, confused.

"George and I are friends only. We like the same music, I do consultations for his store, and we hang out together when I come to London – that's all. My relationship with Severus is different than that – or at least it is right now. After Sunday, who knows?" She shrugged. "We are good together, I'll grant you that." She winked at the new mother who blushed while her husband chuckled over his dinner.

Ginny let the subject drop, switched Albus to the other side and finished her dinner, letting Harry and Abby carry the conversation around her. The Goth girl confused her – but she liked her and she loved playing with the children. And she had to admit that if anyone was a perfect match to Severus Snape, it was Abby Sciuto.

"Do you think she will move here to be with Severus?" she asked her husband later that night as they got ready for bed.

Harry considered the question as he placed Gideon Prewitt's watch on the nightstand, the nightly ritual of running his fingers over the familiar dings and scratches – some that had been there from Gideon, and others obtained during its tenure with Harry – comforting him and always reminding him of who he worked for, blowing out the lamp before climbing under the covers and snuggling next to her. "No, I don't think so. They have a comfortable relationship that works for them. I agree with you that they are a good match – but don't let them hear that, they are both contrary enough that it would jinx the relationship. They are equals in a lot of ways, especially in their respective areas of specialty and they respect each other. But be honest with me, Gin: do you really see Severus Snape ever settling down with a family? I think the fact that we made him Albus' godfather is as close to a family as he will allow himself to come. You watch, he is going to dote on those boys – he already told me he would. And I bet he teaches Teddy, too. Abby has her own work; she's not going to give that up."

"I just hate seeing people lonely," she pouted, and Harry took full advantage of her lips, kissing them goodnight.

"You are a hopeless romantic with mothering hormones running rampant right now," he pointed out. "You want to mother the world and make sure they are as happy as you are." He kissed her nose as she grunted her approval.

"Fine, I guess you're right. I've always felt if the right woman came along..."

"Snape is Snape, Gin-Gin, you can't change him. Make him softer perhaps, but he will always be the quintessential Snape."

"Do you always have to be right?" she groused.

He grinned in the dark room, his smile catching the moonlight filtering through the tall, narrow windows. "Yes," He dropped down as she caught him across the head with her pillow, laughing all the while.

**Friday, September 29****th****, 2006 – Diagon Alley, London, England**

Abby was ready for the night. She had on a fresh pair of jeans, her platform biker boots, her Weird Sisters roadie shirt – signed by all the band members – under a black fishnet over-shirt. Matching lace, fingerless gloves graced her hands and she had made sure she was wearing perfect make-up for the night, her signature red lipstick glowing in the gathering gloom of the late summer evening. She was meeting Brian and George in front of Fortescue's and she was pacing impatiently, waiting for them to show up.

"Patience, Abby, they will be here."

She whipped around to spy Severus leaning up against the pillar to the fallen. He felt his heart flip as she smiled brilliantly at him, rushing over to give him a hug and a kiss.

"You decided to come along after all?" she asked, clearly excited at the prospect. He hated to bring her down.

"No, I'm here to read Weasley and the good Lieutenant the riot act concerning your safety tonight."

"Aww, you care, Severus..." she teased him, kissing his cheek in good humour.

"Of course I care. And they shall know that and they will know explicitly what will happen if one hair on your head is injured." He pointedly ran a hand over one of her pig-tails, tugging it in playfulness.

"Trust us, sir, we know," George said behind them. "We'll take good care of her and have her ready to board that plane tomorrow afternoon."

"You better, Weasley – or I'll remove the other ear on purpose!" he threatened and George clapped a hand over his good side, scowling at his mentor.

"You wouldn't!"

"Keep her safe, and you'll never know. Are we clear, gentlemen? Good. Have a good time, Abigail – I'll pick you up tomorrow and take you side-along to the airport." He started to walk away, but she caught his sleeve, turning him around, instead.

"Come back for me tonight?" she whispered for his ears only. "Midnight outside the store? I want to spend one last night with you before I have to go."

He gazed down in her eyes for a moment then nodded once, bending down to kiss her sweetly before turning and Apparating away.

Abby turned and linked arms with the two men, marching them down the street to the record shop, talking a mile a minute about the music they were about to hear and how much fun this band was.

* * *

Laughing and rollicking groups of young people slowly walked down the street, leading Severus to the front of the store where the concert had been held. He stood off to the side, people-watching; gathering the shadows around him as he watched for the bright carrot-top that would indicate Weasley was coming through the crowd. The tallest Weasley would stand out like a beacon in the crowd of black-haired enthusiasts, but it was quite a few minutes – well past Abby's requested midnight – before he finally spied them coming around the side of the storefront. Ah, she had gone back to say hello to her friends among the band, he realised as he noticed the lead singer – a quite hairy wizard – accompanying her to the alley's edge, shaking hands with George and Brian and giving Abby a friendly hug before waving good-bye to the group. George and Brian seemed to have their hands full of memorabilia and Brian seemed especially enthusiastic after his first concert with the famous band.

Severus stepped forward, dispelling his shadows, as Abby caught sight of him – her smile lighting up her face as always.

"You had a good time?" he asked, accepting a peck on the cheek as she linked arms with him and they all began walking toward the main square of Diagon Alley.

"Fantastic! Brian liked it, didn't you?" she asked the American Auror who was busy shrinking his souvenirs and tucking them away in his jacket pockets.

"Great music – and fantastic showmanship. Don't know why they aren't that popular over in the States – they would do well there!" he commented, a little loudly, as his ears hadn't acclimated to the lower decibel levels of the quieter street. Abby and George laughed at him, George slapping him on the shoulders in amusement.

Abby seemed to be steering the group through the central square. "Join us for an ice-cream?" she asked Severus. "Fortescue's is staying open for an hour or so to accommodate the concert-goers. It will be my last until I can wrangle the time to come back here again," she pouted and how could he refuse a request like that.

He joined them, ordering a small cup of vanilla which he tarried over as the three split a banana sundae piled high with nuts, whipped cream and cherries – while Abby displayed her talents by tying a knot in her cherry stem using just her tongue as she held his gaze the entire time, tempting him to take her right then and there. He blessed Wizard robes for their voluminous hiding capabilities and as soon as they were done with their treat and said their goodbyes, he bundled her up and Apparated to his cottage, carrying her into his bedroom and knocking the door closed with his heel.

**Saturday, September 30****th****, 2006 – Sherwood Forest – England**

"Sev, where is my other boot?"

Snape looked around the bedroom as his lover stomped around unevenly gaited as she searched for the errant footwear. Where _had_ it gone last night? They had undressed so quickly in their eagerness, that they were finding bits of clothing scattered everywhere around the bedroom. Not seeing the biker boot, he finally dropped his wand into his hand and muttered "_Accio_ boot", scooting out of the way as it shot out from under the bed. He handed it to her and left to begin a brunch before he had to return her to Andi's home so she could pack the rest of her belongings.

As he scrambled some eggs and set the toast to heating in the oven, she came into the country kitchen and leaned up against the counter, watching him.

"You _could_ make yourself useful and set the table," he suggested. She smiled and bounced up to search for plates and silverware, taking them out to the porch so they could eat out there. She came back in and grabbed a pitcher of juice from the cold storage and two glasses from the drain board. He followed soon after carrying the skillet, a plate of oven-toast floating behind him, already buttered and sliced, fresh tomatoes.

They ate companionably, sharing the Daily Prophet that the delivery owl had dropped off earlier, pointing out interesting articles to each other.

She finally leaned back, looking out over the forest. "I'm definitely going to miss it here – but I'm also feeling homesick for my lab. I really don't want to know what they've done to it!" she groused. He nodded in sympathy.

"I would feel the same way. Have you heard from them at all?"

"No – and that worries me. But, I've sent them postcards and emails when I've been able to access my email. I wish I had time to visit some of George's friends; I could use a laptop that isn't affected by wholesale magic. I really shouldn't worry, though, Gibbs doesn't like it when we bother _him_ on vacation so I'm sure he's trying to let me relax – but I'd relax more if I knew everyone was all right," she flustered. She really had never been one to worry patiently.

"You'll know in ten hours, Abby," he pointed out, having followed her rambling soliloquy.

"So I will," she agreed, pigtails bouncing as she nodded her head. She snuck a glance at her watch – a mechanical piece that wasn't affected by ambient magic. She kept it for when she was on trips to England – an old Timex from when she was a little girl that still had a picture of Alice in Wonderland under the number twelve, her twirling arms acting as the watch hands.

"Damn, better clean up and head back to Aunt Andi's." She matched word to deed and stood up to gather plates when Severus just waved his hand and the dishes floated back into the kitchen to start scrubbing themselves.

"They will put themselves away – it is built into the spell. Do you have everything?"

She had sent everything back with Teddy that afternoon and had only kept her ID, which had been in her back pocket all night. She verified that it was still there along with a credit card, and he gathered her in close to Apparate to Andi's back garden. She stayed in his arms a little longer, enjoying the contact before reluctantly removing herself at the sound of her Aunt's voice calling from the kitchen window.

"Abby? Is that you? You need to pack, dear!" rang Andromeda's voice, and they sprang apart like guilty teenagers, laughing at the absurdity of it.

"Coming!" she called out, snagging Severus' hand and walking with him across the garden.

"You certainly did multiple times last night!" he said _sotto voce_, earning himself a slap on the upper arm, grinning the entire time.

"Severus! How good to see you! Thank you for offering to take Abby to the airport; Teddy is having a junior league Quidditch match today and I need to take him to that." Andromeda was bustling about the kitchen, packing a basket of food for lunch.

"It's no problem, Andi, I'm glad to do so." He pushed the Goth down the hall, after she had greeted her aunt with a kiss and hug, so that she would get started packing and stayed in the kitchen to catch up with the only Black he'd ever really gotten along with. She pouted, but acquiesced, checking on Teddy to make sure he was gearing up as well.

"Ready for your match?" she asked as he stood in her doorway, watching her pull her things from the drawers and roll them up to stack in her luggage bag.

"Yeah. Aunt Ginny is normally our coach – having been with the Harpies all those years – but Uncle Harry is taking over for the next few matches until Albus gets older." He peered out into the main part of the house, making sure the other grown-ups weren't listening. "Abby, are you coming back? I mean you and Mr Snape..."

She turned around and summoned him over to sit next to her on the bed. "I have a job to do, Teddy. Hopefully, it won't be as long between visits this time – I really love coming here, and I like Severus a lot. But he's going to have a new job as well, you know. Neither of us is ready to settle down, we like our independence too much. Do you understand?"

"But," he hesitated, "don't you love him?"

"I think so," she said, trying to be honest with him. "But I love my job and my friends, too – and right now, I miss them terribly. But, I'm going to try to come back every year, even if just for a few days. Or, you and your grandmother could come to America and visit me – I could show you my lab! I can't let you grow up so fast again! And here – I have something for you!" She pulled out two small leather wrist guards, studded with silver studs.

"Wicked!" he breathed, buckling them on. "Just like yours!"

"Uh, huh. It'll keep you from breaking those wrists in Quidditch, and maybe start a fashion trend," she said, winking slyly at him. She gathered the little boy in for a hug before shooing him off as Andromeda called for him from the parlour. He shot past the Potions master as he came to stand in her doorway, shouting a good-bye to the dour man.

"Are you packed?" Severus asked over the sound of the Floo activating. Abby stood and surveyed the room, making sure she had grabbed everything when she spotted a photo of her and Dora from happier times, in their Roadie shirts – mugging for the camera. Picking it up, she ran a hand over the photo; tracing Dora's grinning face as her cousin stuck her tongue out at her then hugged her younger self, hard. Making a quick decision, she unzipped her bag and buried the frame deep inside so that it was cushioned by the clothes and relocked the bag.

"I am now!" she declared. He took the luggage from her and she carried her pack and jacket out to the garden. Stepping into his arms, she kissed him as he activated the magic and whirled them away to the Apparation point at Heathrow.

He accompanied her to the check-in desk, waiting as they tagged her luggage and processed her return ticket, walking her to the scanners where they discovered Brian Boswell standing in line.

"Abby, Severus... You're on this flight, too?" he asked, surprised.

"Just me," Abby explained. "Severus was just dropping me off. You are flying to DC?"

"Just the first leg; continuing on through to Albuquerque. Where's your seat?" They compared tickets and discovered – to Severus' relief – that they were separated by fifteen rows. He was surprised at the surge of jealousy he was feeling towards the handsome Auror in his black leather jacket and button down shirt that had the top four buttons undone. He reminded himself firmly that Abby had come home with him last night instead of staying with her friends. But the green dragon was irrational and all he could do was put a choke hold on it and not let her see how it affected him. He watched as the lieutenant was passed through the inspection point and then it was Abby's turn.

He kissed her swiftly before she removed her shoes, dropping them, her leather belt buckle, her dog collar (a simple black one with red fleur de lis), and rings into the tray and her backpack onto the conveyor belt. He watched as they wanded her and had her step through the magnetic portal, passing their detector, and was amused as she reapplied her appliances and waved good-bye to him, blowing him a kiss before disappearing into the crowds.

Finis

* * *

**A/N: Yes this is the end. Yes, I've left it open for other stories and will probably write some later in the year. Right now I need to gear up for LC2011 - hope to see some of you there - and so my writing is curtailed while I work for the convention and get ready to head to Florida in July. So all fan-writing is being put on hold until late summer. In the meantime, I have several other large works out there to enjoy, and a C2 called Zarathustra's reading Nook which is chock full of 11 pages of well written fan fic in the HP universe. So, thank you from the bottom of my little green Slytherin heart for all your kind reviews, I'm glad you've enjoyed this romp! See you soon!**


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